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

About Christina Anne Hawthorne

Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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