Whispered Wanderings

I see the words and wonder why.
Adventurous 12-year-old within
longs to crawl under the chain
approach the old house
tiptoe in through the broken door and
say hello to the ghosts who live there.
Perhaps bring them some cookies,
or some crisp autumn apples from the yard;
or even a picnic lunch that we could share. But
grown-up me grabs her hand and hurries away.
That’s me, running away again, so afraid
of being Seen.

klm
10/22/24