There’s a ghost there
A shadow of her former self
Grey of face and of hair
The reflection has faded over time.
substance…substance-less…smoke.
Less true, less real,
The grey transmuting to a level
Of transparency.
Solidity fading to a distinct lack of
Realness, personhood or being.
substance…substance-less…smoke.
Not just a lessening of vitality,
A lack of vibrancy, but robbed of
The innate strength of self
The soul fading, slipping away,
Leaving a ghostly husk,
a insubstational reflection
of who she once was
substance…substance-less…smoke.
This is part of the April Love project
What a lovely poem!
thanks Silvia!