Dear Ghost
I first wrote Michele and then i checked to see the Mayor of Hilldale's blog and sure enough he is affected by what i am pointing out here because he cut down on the pronoun "I" considerably.

I had to get on line to fix the poem I wrote about you last night. I had to switch the word, "and" to turn the word, walk, into an infinitive.

It was bugging since last night when i clicked off the computer but i didn t have the time nor the strength to change it til now.

Mom is not well.

They put her on antibiotic; her chest was so tight this morning.

My brothers, mike and smokey, call. My sisters call.

I am not leaving her til she's better.

I wanted to be able to go back to work this weekend. I love my job but i can t read my voice isn t back yet and i cough.

But i hope the following weekend i will be back.

i just can t leave her.

She's not eating properly. I am pushing nutrients into myself and i can t get her to do it.

Well, I love you ghost.

I love your heart.

I love that you show in my dreams.

I love that you can be grumpy.

I love that you can be playful.

I have seen it all from my window.

I don t like that all those women like you. Smart thinking women really like you. It's like when my mom met you she said to me in the car, "I like that guy."

She never says that.

I miss seeing you.