All things leave a ghost
So I say why fear
When they are, at most,
Not all here.

Enjoy the ghost of rain
Without the wet,
Long fallen mountains
Still standing yet,
The first words you spoke,
Every nightly dream,
The moment you woke,
All else you deem
Unworthy of a memory
Goes on itself remembering.

So too this poem now passes on
To haunt as planned all along.