I can be a really skeptical person,
I don’t believe in ghost, and just think of weird things that happen as coincidences,
But, as flower petals magically float down toward my passenger seat, just before I close my car door.
I felt chills, as if memories from past lives rushed through my skin like electricity when you touch a Walmart cart.
Instant, waiting for a reaction.
And if that isn’t one hell of a metaphor,
I don’t know what is.
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 3:08 PM UTC
I can be a really skeptical person,
I don’t believe in ghost, and just think of weird things that happen as coincidences,
But, as flower petals magically float down toward my passenger seat, just before I close my car door.
I felt chills, as if memories from past lives rushed through my skin like electricity when you touch a Walmart cart.
Instant, waiting for a reaction.
And if that isn’t one hell of a metaphor,
I don’t know what is.
Request permission to use this poem