Ghostly Hands

I sense it now and then, a ghostly
silhouette that flickers at the edge of
sight – a vague and fleeting shade that
fades the moment when I turn my head.

I know it’s there, caught a glimpse by
subterfuge, a sneaking glance of avid
eyes and furrowed brow in hazy guise
of boredom lest it guess my game.

Saw a pair of ghostly hands
which briefly waved
and disappeared – saw
again the same today.

I watch my hands with interest now –
try to memorise each line, don’t know
how it's done, or why, but I’m
convinced they’re surely mine.
© 14 August 2007, I.D. Carswell