Chasing Your Ghost in the Cold of Night
by Morgan Stone Grether
Chasing your ghost in the cold of night,
Reaching for the phantom wisps of your jacket
That trail after you as you run under my skylights,
Soft white glow of the moon above us turning all
Unreal, all a fog of yesterday's daydreams,
Dashing in the dark, slipping in and out of time,
In and out of light, through my outreached fingertips.
And I catch you for a moment as clouds part the sky
And kiss you in the passing brightness.
You say, "This never really happened, but I love it.”