I smell fresh roses on the subway
Are my ghosts here too?
Can they visit inhospitable places?
Pass through me drawing out memory
It’s always unexpected when it happens
An overwhelming sense of calm
More than déjà vu or melancholy
It’s the wave of true sensation
It passes so brusquely
As if only to taunt my motion
Leaving only memory, a pale emotion
Compared to time and space travel
Thank you for the flowers
On this grey Spring day
Even if their presence quiets
A disillusioned way.
How can a mortal give gifts to a ghost
Passing things across the ether
We can only accept
Until the great gap is bridged.