A Ghost Smile

A Ghost Smile
by R. Hirosue


You cannot see or hear it,
Never wolfish, only a wisp.
It tickles the corners of the mouth
And onto the lips it creeps.
It flickers across a drear, sombre face
And as fleetingly as it appeared, it fades.

It is a tiny shadow,
A mirage
Utterly devoid of amusement
That slightly dances across pale lips,
And once the deed is done
All but left is a memory flash.

It tweaks.
It flits.
It hovers.
It quirks up a bit.
Nimbly it plays onto the pallid face
Only as if to graze if not retrace
The bleaching faint lines of the lips,
But it is all buried
Before you blink next.

Did you see it?
No, did you?
Was it imagined?
Was it from a magazine?
It once belonged in the family of laughter,
But now it is more of a derisive frown,
Lurking in secrecy and the darkness,
An apparition on the faces in the crowd.