Through A Ghosts' Eyes

This was my life.

Sitting on the metal bench of a bleacher, its cold seat anchoring me against the melancholy winds that blew in the world of the outsider. For I could only watch and pretend that I was truly apart of this realm; the physical world. Touching things and people - having some kind of effect here. But if I were to be totally, completely honest in a situation that called for it; if, somehow, I were asked an intrusive question about myself, what I was, who I am, why I was here, my words could only be:
"I am a ghost. A ghost that wanders as it wishes to be tangible."
Because I am a ghost. What other being could match the struggles I've had to be seen by another? To feel? Who other than I could walk the earth invisible and silent...forever?
But, alas, despite all my woes, I can say that the life I live has at least made one concession.
In particular moments such as this, now, as I sit in the midst of a sunny morning with an October breeze billowing through me and past the autumn trees, I am able to see so very clearly. In moments like these, through a ghost's eyes, the world seems to be so simply beautiful. As if made for the sole purpose of pleasing my eyes and mine alone.
This dreamy tint of golden sunshine cast about a brightening, morning sky; the red and bronze of dead leaves still attached to tree branches that fluttered in the chill air, whispering together before they fell away; the silence that was, for once, a comfort in my company.
Nature bends to my sadness sometimes, to aleve me of it if for a few moments in time.
And it is that, this aspect of the world, that makes the life of even a ghost worthwhile.