The Ghost Of An Angel

He walked for hours through the woods
He was finally at the top of the mountain
Watching the sea, the setting sun, the flying birds
Closing his eyes, he threw his head back
A light, cold breeze made him shiver.

No need to look to open his eyes
There was nothing to look at.

No need to talk, to produce any sound
There was no one to talk to.

There was, however, a need to feel.
He knew, he had felt.

The girl he had planned to spend his life with
Was right there, sitting beside him.
He couldn’t see her, but he knew it.
She was the cold breeze.

She was there.
Even though she’s just a ghost now.
The ghost of an angel.
The ghost of his angel.