Winter ghosts,,,
W hite winter skies, drained of blues, Blank, but not empty, like canvases erased. Ghosts of past clouds run within them, stirred by cold, misty humid winds. My ghosts are also disturbed by the empty sight of nothingness, ghosts of ideas and feelings that once were, essences that remained behind when I thought I had forgotten, images of those I have loved and lost... they all come back to haunt me, when I stare at the sky, on white, blank, winter days. Sign in to see full entry.