There are moments in the quiet of night when the intangible feels almost real—when shadows speak, whispers linger, and the world between presence and absence blurs.
This poem dwells in that space, exploring the fleeting, ghostly traces of connection and memory that linger in the mind like the faint touch of a dream.
It’s also an experiment in form, blending two poetic styles: the structured descent of a nonet with the vivid brevity of haiku.
Palpable shadows creep on the wall,
Silent whispers echo faintly,
Mysteries behind the fall,
Touch that feels so saintly,
Moonlit sighs call,
Gentle, frail,
Barely
Soft—
Veil.
Whispered breath fades,
Silence swells in the darkness,
Touch lost in the void.
Dreams,
Just
Gleams—
Lost in
Fleeting, stalls,
Chills without a trace,
Secrets the night installs,
Touch that lingers, ghostly grace,
Echoes rebound in empty halls.
Ghosts dance on cold air,
Echoes of a touch so near,
Palpable yet gone.
(c) Eric Montgomery
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