Ghost In The Glade

October 5, 2017 — #writephoto, poem

Glade

They slipped away during the end of the ceremony to look outside

When they saw the movement on the forrest floor little sister cried

Where is father now that his soul has gone to heaven and his body has died?

The strong scent of cedar and pine, paternal memories in gusts of wind

The light shot down from a hazy sky with a spiritual message to send

Everything that is the father’s is mine, the connection will never end

#writephoto

The poem this week is a response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt on her Daily Echo. Join us each week to be inspired by her images to read, write, and comment. Check out the hashtag #writephoto on twitter.