But they flash by my eyes,
Very quickly and then are gone.
They pose no threat to me,
Or the dream I had been on.

Instead, they are in full color,
In contemporary, ordinary attire.
They pose no threat whatsoever,
Illicit my curiosity, not ire.

Some of them are younger,
and some of them, middle-age,
But none of them are old ghosts,
Quickly gone like a turned page.

Some of them move quickly,
Across my large bedroom.
Others appear close to me,
Like my caregivers in the room.

These images are totally new,
Don“t fit the traditional ghost view.
Instead, they are non-threatening,
Appear infrequently, few.

I“ll leave it to your own conclusions,
If you see them, too.
While I will fade from the page,
Turn it, you always do.