Late Afternoon, Ghost Spring & Other Poetry

By Daniel Leach

Late Afternoon 

My spirit is lost in the late afternoon, 
As it drifts with the shadows that float in the air; 
It lives in the moment that dies all too soon, 
Like the sunbeams that play on a little girl’s hair. 

One part of it carelessly moves with each change, 
While one on another the visions are flying, 
The other is seized with a feeling so strange, 
And clings to each sight like a man who is dying. 

The sound of the laughter of children at play, 
The sight of young lovers who gaze longingly, 
The feel of the heartbeat and pulse of the day, 
Like the silent thoughts none but a spirit would see. 

For the memory of what forever is lost, 
Must color the visions that flow to the mind, 
And make one like those who death’s river have crossed 
And come back to haunt what the heart left behind.