Ghosts are real.  They are there for all to see In old photoes  In annotated books at the back of libraries  In footsteps on a dusty road  Ghosts are real And they call themselves memory

And they called themselves heroes.  Swords and stones  They called themselves heroes  Broken glass and broken hearts  Heroes.  Are they virtues or are they sins? 

What are you waiting for  Pick flowers  Brade them into your matted hair  Paint pictures  Splash paint without a care  Tell stories  Remember, and bear in mind  Don’t wait for me  Don’t wait for the world  Dance beneath the stars. …

One day your bones will grow flowers  One day they will lay alone in the woods  As bachelor’s button and daisies grow through the eye sockets  And between the ribs  Dirt and dust will cover your bones  And moss dotted…

Summer  Hold all your lost memories  Won’t you please  Remember me  Seasons  Come and go  Don’t you know  You’re not alone this year 

Grey. grey grass, grey sky, grey mountains, grey land. Everything Jasper had done had led them here. The highlands. Every choice, every word spoken. The wind blew through the grass, sending the smell of rotten summer through the air and…

Celtic mythology says that leaving a graveyard a different way that you entered means spirits will exit with you. A fugitive sprints through a graveyard.  Alice has a good head on her shoulders. At least that’s what momma and grandma…

Their smiles  Hugs  Braided hair  Flower crowns  Holding hands Dancing together  The four of us  The first moment on stage  Ophelia by the Lumineers  Waiting for a show to start  Handing out hand-made presents  Smiles  Googlie eyes  5.1 A Midsummer…

Found  My heart is not of that  expected hue;  Family is far more choice than blood’s choice;  If love be true, why then be family true;  If life be love, solitude lives by voice I have seen hearts demask’d, older…