I often wonder how life really came to be. I begin to walk down a windy road, The air is brisk. I shudder at the whispers of lost souls blowing through the newly bare trees, Noticing the shadows out of the corner of my eyes, Feeling their eyes on me, Watching me intently with each and every step I take.
I am attracted to the surge of cold and fragile air, I open my eyes, There before me stands a translucent soul. I stand there paralyzed, admiring her victorian style. Her dress is astonishing. I reached out to touch her, She’s gone. I pull back my frigid arm, Look around and sigh at her absence.
-- to be continued --
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