Short Stories

The Psychic (A poem)

 I always knew from the beginning,

That the veil between the dead and living was thinning, I could see what others couldn't see...

And that was meant to be. I never felt alone,

Not in a bad way should I say,

For I had a friend that I would see from day to day, She was sweet, She was kind, And I would often think about her at the back of my mind,

I could see and feel what others couldn't, 

Maybe even that some wouldn't,

I never prided myself on that, 

Because it is simply just a simple fact,

I could see those who I had lost, 

To the other side had crossed...

...And I would often see her, 

The leafs around me would stir, And I could see and feel her,

People claim to be able to see these visions, 

Usually you will know it is false if their story has gone through several revisions,

What I saw though isn't fake, If it was, 

I am sure a ghost's heart would break,

It is real, I know because I feel...
She often gently squeezes my hand, 

which makes me feel quite glad,

Even though she is made out of thin air,

She is both beautiful and fair,

People wonder why I spend time alone, 

The truth is even when I am alone, I am not really alone...

For she is here with me.