Ghost of a Memory

Your image wanders everywhere

Through the house where we had lived since you were small:

In a darkly-colored bag upon the stair

Or a shadow in a corner of the hall.

It’s the imagined ghost of a memory

My outer eyes appear to see,

But inwardly

I feel you’re near me somewhere

As more than just a shade of reverie.

This is the second of two poems I'm posting about my family's cat, Slick, who passed away last May. I wrote this poem in August, during my first visit back to my parents' house after it happened. I couldn't help expecting to see him waiting at the top of the stairs, or coming around a corner, or sleeping on the windowsill. And there were definitely a few times when I saw a bag or a shadow and thought it was him.