The Dancing Ghost
I am just a ghost.
My mind floats among the flakes as they dance around the light. A young couple passes underneath. Dark sculptures are watching them. Attracted by their whispering thoughts, I follow. As I always do, curious about new impressions. But I am getting bored with their thoughts. Always busy, always concerned and turning around the mundanities of life. He is worried about how big his raise will be. She wonders if he loves her. I want to scream into their faces, that nothing is significant in the end. But I am but a ghost. And it is not my place. I was the same. Oh, had I only known.
A snowflake passes through me. I imagine that it causes a slight tingling sensation. But of course, as the ethereal being that I am, I am not feeling anything. Drifting with the flakes is a little like dancing. And I remember our dance. At first, you were afraid that I would step on your toes. And how, after the first few gentle steps the waltz just carried us along. Your hand in mine, we were flying. And as you looked me in the eyes, time just stopped.
I remember. But now I am just a ghost, dancing with the snowflakes.