Bedtime in Bournemouth

Some stay with me
become a part of my

she reads palms
and tells me this.

Ghosts kiss lightly and
tread even more so,
the dead know

I sleep to wake
hoping the pattern won’t break
but knowing one day it will.

when I was six and sixty was
longer than Christmas to go
I didn’t know how quickly
soon would come.

I guess it’s making its way to me
to add to the bio-chemistry, but
it doesn’t really bother me,
reads palms.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.