when sitting alone there is even less silence
fingertips tapping keypads
keep time with strings
playing in the background
recreating this little biosphere
unfolding in my mind
wind chimes and bird songs
chatter noisily over a nearby
stream and faraway train
while oscillating fan mimics
breezes blowing in my face
lonely souls and frisky ghosts
sit near the fireless pit
swapping old stories and
asking invisible gods why
their prayers linger and fade
may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
❤ it
Thank you Bonnie!
You have been looking at my desk! Never tidy and now cluttered with unseen visitors scattered at random. Peopled with shades drawn from the past, controlling my fingertips, explaining themselves and becoming my friends.
that is such a wonderful scene
I think it’s hearing those ghosts that make all the difference.
yes, I certainly believe so