I Can Picture the Ghosts Here

I can picture the ghosts here.

Who lived here before?

For how long and when?

I see them seated

Around a small dinner table.

I hear soft music

And witness slow-dancing

In the kitchen.

I can feel them in my heart;

Their laughs, their weeping,

The anguish they felt when

A loved one died.

Or the nervous smiles

When they sent their child

Off to school for the first time.

I can see the smiles.

I can see the frowns during

Midnight talks at the dinner table.

I can feel the love,

The hatred that gets wiped away

Just before bedtime.

I can see the ghosts here.

The walls have a memory,

Absorbed. They tell me.

Or I must have let my imagination

Get away from me once again.