100 Words on Love, by Allan Mott
I don’t believe in ghosts, but there she is. Utterly tangible—young, bright of eye and physical in a way that cannot be denied.
This girl—this young woman—is a memory. A moment captured. She moves. She dances. She laughs. She sings. She owns me completely.
And she’s been gone for as long as I have been alive.
She does not exist, yet here she is. Fierce, determined, sad, funny, charming, beautiful….
It’s a helpless kind of love. A gift you cannot open.
But isn’t that what makes dreams worth dreaming?
I know it’s why I keep watching.
Photo: Flickr/Thomas Galvez