Ghosts of her past

A hidden key, a rusty lock,
Unused and abandoned,
But still right where she had left them,
Just like the ghosts of her past

A withered flower
Hidden betwixt pages
Of a dog-eared diary
On which were scribbled words
Describing emotions she could no longer summon

A colorless picture
In a worn out frame
Hanging on a faded wall
Captured in a candid moment
A recollection she would rather forget

A clock, now, quite dead
Upon a mantlepiece
Its quiet digits betraying a time
Outside her memory
Its life had continued without her

A few words of love
In a yellow letter
With a hint of romance
The resilient prose had stayed,
Keeping the promise their maker had disregarded

A solitary teardrop
A lonely descent
That disturbed the dust
Which had rearranged itself
To cover bygone tracks

Imprints of a home that once was
Tell-tale signs in obscure corners
Of a life that once was
The forlorn room
Lit by the rays escaping through the broken window

Shattered panes
Shards of glass
Held together by each other
She dared not move them lest they cut her
Instead she smiled at it and a million reflections smiled back
Just like the ghosts of her past!