The Worst Ghost

The worst ghost 

is not my late loving husband who gave me safety and took so much

big bear big brain warmth with him

or my Father

also a force of nature, quizzical  , unstoppable

or my Mother mischievous, teasing, and clever

Its not even my own mortality  whistling and dancing a hornpipe 

in the wings

I would like to say like a goat but its really got flat feet and heavy shoes.

Its not light in the jig

I have suddenly been able to spell age

The worst ghost is  all the potential I have ignored.

Its the novels and paintings still blank pages.

The great breakthroughs unfound

The public service not done

It haunts me every day. I reach for triviality and biscuits