150 Words: Old Ghosts

Old ghosts are coming out for encores…smiling out of the haze at the head of the avenue, waltzing down memory lane saying hello, saying goodbye. 

Old ghosts are dancing to old songs on streets of gold and shadow…streets of carnal longing and chaste nonsense, streets of loss and folly and ever-lingering regret…blowing plaintive kisses to the silent shade in the audience, saying things that people wouldn’t, didn’t say and disappearing back into the swirling haze at the end of the avenue. 

That’s what old ghosts do…that’s what old ghosts are for…waltzing to sad old songs while the shade in the audience remembers a past that never was…blowing tender, plaintive, farewell kisses…saying things they might or, more likely, might not have wanted to say when they weren’t ghosts.

Old ghosts are coming out for encores…old ghosts are beaming radiantly while cradling bouquets of white roses…old ghosts are waltzing down memory lane.