My feet slipped a little; the heels slid
In the little nooks on the cobbled path
The fresh snow quick and nimble,
Covered my steps: I was never here!
The passerby barely glanced back,
With the merest of double-takes
Almost indiscernible to myopic eyes
Almost. Except for the tingling feeling
On my neck, running down the spine
And I knew. Knew what I didn’t remember.
You were there, you were here-
And not a ghost who’d silently passed by.