Ghosts

I don't believe in ghosts. But they believe in me.

I walk my life as any human was who was free.

I feel the crunch of dry leaves under my feet.

I take two lefts and a right. I turn around and then repeat.

There are drips overhead. That plumbing needs a fix.

Details enter my head. The ghosts enjoy their tricks.

Many footsteps surround me. I am not jostled at all.

At the hint of any contact, I would surely stumble, fall.

A door. Focus now. A door handle is before my hand.

I extend my arm and grip it. This entrance was pre-planned.

I walk over the doorway, across an ordinary mat.

A little bell rings overhead, and wakes a sleepy cat.

I stand, judging it. Do the ghosts have this one too?

I gather myself, walk forward. Many things I walk through.

This pocket contains many perils. I bring forth, unscathed, a watch.

It's ticking is uneven. The gears need check for any crack or notch.

I cannot have this. The lack of regularity drives me insane.

A figure (two?) agree that a faulty watch would be a shame.

Given four hours, they can fix it. I sit. I observe.

Carefully. Quietly. Waiting for any straight line to curve.

Is it done? I only ask when I know for certain it is, yes.

I apologise for my awkwardness, during the time I was watch-less.

I exhale. The ticks. My ticks. Not slow. Not quick.

My time. I turn. And walk. Job done. Tick tick.

I don't believe in ghosts. But they believe in me.

With a working watch in hand, I now walk a bit more lightly.