Sometimes I talk to spirits that come in while I’m asleep.
It must get lonely as a ghost, quite often they will weep.
But others tell me stories of far-off distant lands.
Of things they did while of the earth; how life is hard to plan.
I listen to adventures, hear books I’ve never read,
But somehow upon waking this gets trapped inside my head.
It’s hard to talk to people – they rarely want to hear.
Some smile and nod, but mostly they just run away in fear.
When young, I used to wonder why all adults told lies.
They’d swear to me they couldn’t see what’s right before their eyes.
But now as I grow older, I understand their fear –
If they admit they see them, then they must exist, my dear.
And if, in truth, these beings are trapped here once they’re gone –
Perhaps in time we too will share their fate, go on and on.
Yet still it seems a pity, with wisdom they could share,
To tell us not to trust our ears and eyes, or ‘talk to air’.
A goldfish bowl, I live within
And gaze out on the world.
At people who pass by, I grin,
Though they act quite absurd.
I know they see me, yes indeed
For oft I catch their eye,
And yet they will not smile back
What do you fear? I cry.
I wonder at these silly folk
Who spend their day a-scowl.
What use is that? I’ll share a joke,
There’s no need to be foul!
I hope each time I see you
That for you things have improved;
Look forward to our meeting
When you’re in a better mood.