Memorial Ghost

Squirrels along the path

Knew my tip-toe gait,
Hopping out of the way,

As wind unfurled fast-food wrappers  

Cluttering my annual return path.

Noteworthy experiences from my life
Were about to have their yearly memorial tribute
Performed by my old mime-troupe in the park,
When a burst of summer-hail

Makes its unwelcome appearance

Giving brief panic to bush and flower

Along with nannies and children
Running and shrieking for shelter

Beneath the olden pine boughs.

With the passing storm short lived,

I find a good seat along the path
Amongst the empty park benches,
And wait for the vulnerable living
To stroll forward pondering

What all the mime-fuss is about.

All except…

An elderly man with walker unknowingly

Finds comfort sitting upon and through my ghostly lap.

We gently sigh together as mime faces lean toward us,

The old man’s body slumping into a smiling demise,

Beginning his own form of lingering.