some days we are both ghosts,
for we see unlike trees.

the earth falls asleep
and still I spin the globe
blue and grey-green
flickers of light and shadow
like a stargazer trapped
in life.

remember me
as a time of day
or explosions in the sky
a fading photograph
digitally waning
the salt and the sea

for life is full
and my hands are lived in
and I will run my race
until my heart bursts
and I will see
like a ghost.

remember me
as a time of day
and smile at my ghost
that is four and happy
with pigtails
that dances in the leaves

for I have spun the sky
like a flickered thread
thin to break
because I cannot hold up the roof
but you will cry with me
as the earth falls asleep

dancing inside of a library glen
a thousand pages
for we live in stories,
you and I,
both ghosts
and your hand in mine
we both laugh up at the
stars and freeze

the sound of the branches
under your feet, traveling light
oh, your hand in mine
the smell of the sky
and burning of leaves
orange and red and crimson flames
painted on the woodwork

these days are November
when we dream of splintered light
too tired to keep up much longer
and you grin
(delicious sound -- the books smile)

remember me
as a time of day
and I will remember you
as November
and the sea.
because we see unlike trees,
but rather ghosts see the living.