We live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger.

Every path paved by their love, their joy, their anger.

Every street carved by heels leaving tiny dents and holes.

Every wall marked by the sun, leaving traces from the shadows of souls.

Ghosts though gone, stay engraved in our memory.

They’re remembered as lovers, friends and family.

They’re inspirations, the guidance we need for tough decisions.

They’re the angels on our shoulders assuring good in our actions.

Ghosts are the ones that began painting the canvas of humanity.

Now that we’re holding the brushes, may we paint caringly.

I still feel their hands guiding mine while I trace my future.

And when I’ll have to put down my brush, I’ll have this rich canvas to admire.