Ghosts

I walk in that place again
And find her sitting on the bench
Gazing at the fat red roses
Dripping like blood from the wall
A former self, another me
With untried hope still

I stop at the bench and reach out
A hand to the sunlit shade
Pulling her to her feet
We gather up the months
And cast them like seeds
Across the silence of time

They land at our footsteps
In a scatter of daisies
And we walk across the past
With new wisdom and old hope
Hand in hand, side by side
We exit by the gate to…….