The Ghost Of Me

The Ghost of Me

I walked along the riverbank,
The rushes growing tall.
The swans they craned their necks to see,
One frosty day in fall.

The water seemed as black as coal
And almost still as ice,
And nature did not make a sound,
No squirrels, gulls, or mice.

I saw her on a rugged bench
Right there before the stile.
She never did acknowledge me,
She did not wave or smile.

Dark hair hung limp right down her back,
Her skin was thin and pale,
Her dress was torn and clung against
A body thin and frail

But as she turned her face I saw
Her spirit wild and free,
My breath caught heavy in my throat:
She was the Ghost of Me

And from her lips a whisper came
A truth I could not hear,
I screamed out loud into the void,
But nobody was near.

In mirrors I have seen that truth,
The lines upon my face.
The ghost of me she hides behind,
And waits to take my place.


28 lines

Form - Quatrain in Common Measure
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/types.html