Memories

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

The ghost on the bench sighed.  Of course, no one heard. She gazed at her tombstone, where the chiseled words had worn off and the stone tipped to one side.

Her eyes wandered to her beloved garden, and in memory she saw it as it had been two hundred years before. Clean, full of color and joy, scenting the air three seasons of the year and resting in the winter.

No one tended it now. All that remained were brittle branches and weed-choked walkways.

Rising from the bench, she floated above her tombstone, dissolving into nothing.

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26 thoughts on “Memories

  1. Great story. Reminds me of ..”you can’t go home again” …things change, some for the better and some for the worse, but never the same as you remember it. Sad for the one looking back in this story, but time for them to move on and just keep their last memories.

    Liked by 1 person

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