Real Ghosts

 

' ...but love that is never spoken
Goes like a ghost through the winding years...'

Confession: I don't believe in those supernatural entities we call ghosts.  

But I do believe in the metaphorical kind, specifically the kind Sara Teasdale so succinctly describes here.  Yes, those are the real hauntings - things that never were, but what longed to be.

(This song by the way,  compliments this poem perfectly.)

 

The Ghost Poem - Sara Teasdale

I went back to the clanging city,
I went back where my old loves stayed,
But my heart was full of my new love's glory,
My eyes were laughing and unafraid.

I met one who had loved me madly
And told his love for all to hear -
But we talked of a thousand things together,
The past was buried too deep to fear.

I met the other, whose love was given
With never a kiss and scarcely a word -
Oh, it was then the terror took me
Of words unuttered that breathed and stirred.

Oh, love that lives its life with laughter
Or love that lives its life with tears
Can die - but love that is never spoken
Goes like a ghost through the winding years. . . .

I went back to the clanging city,
I went back where my old loves stayed,
My heart was full of my new love's glory, -
But my eyes were suddenly afraid.