Spectral Pirouettes

The memories- they dance,
always at a distance.
No longer bound
by corporeal obligations.
Free-
to elicit joy,
and evoke sorrow.
Accountable only to themselves.

More perfect in reminiscence
than when first born;
ever more agonizing
as time washes them away.
Ghosts-
of their former glory;
all that remains.

One day too,
their spectors-
will fade to nothing.
Lost;
to Father Time's
collection plate.
Where, ever after,
the memories dance.

Forever ghosts;
just out of reach.