A Spector Waiting

Courtesy: Pixabay

She'd seen them,
born before death,
yet trapped in a stasis,
their vicarious lives
forgetting to urge them
to step outside.

If learning was growing,
if growing was living,
they were crystalizing
before her eyes,
orchestrating a tragedy
one day at a time.

She'd not breathe her last
before her first,
nor drift through life
a specter waiting,
waiting for the end,
waiting for a reason to keep waiting.

©October 2019, January 2023
Christina Anne Hawthorne

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