Little Ghosts 

Just a little poetry short. Benumentary part one.
Little Ghosts, poem:
Just outside the window,
There are all these little ghosts
In a sea of little people.
And they walk just as they've always walked.
Their eyes wander through dirt faces.
Things were thrown away out here.
Haunted dreams and half-thought
Eulogies for toys.
Ghosts don't come from aether,
But shimmer,
Fading figures
From exactly where you left them.
They'd like you to notice,
And they'd want you to smile with no rush
Or touch
Of sadness in the eyes.
From birth of dirt,
To unknown death.
There are so many little people,
There are so many little ghosts.
There are so many little people.
There are so many little ghosts.
"That's a happy Ben right there."