Pitches made for painting

from John ..For each of us there are the winter ghosts

For each of us there are the winter ghosts
who gather in the shadows by the door,
the living ghosts, the gentle dead
whose hearts can beat once more.

I meet you only at this time of year,
your warm, lost smiles come shining once again,
you step out from my memory
like rainbows in the rain.

I see you in your winter clothes, laughing.
Eyes that I loved fill up again with joy.
You open wide your aching arms
and I can step inside.

A scent that was the scent of life returns,
darkness dissolves, old songs drift in the night air,
a dream becomes a tender touch,
frost lights your ghostly hair.

And, if I listen, I can hear your words
and say the things I never chanced to say.
Belief becomes an absolute,
for this short, winter day.