As an adult I have returned to old classrooms,
childhood playhouses, and abandoned sanctuaries
where each echo of sound, in the emptiness,
recalls a memory to my senses–

We call them ghosts, the paranormal, when we feel the intensity of their presence—when we feel the hair on our arms rise and the goosebumps send a chill up our spine. 

These places remain unchanged, unhindered, and empty–
yet full —- they  are alive, but only speaking to us–
of all we experienced and all whom we have known–
love, loss, lessons. 
Some kindred spirits, others– deviants of another kind.

A tangible reminder of the erienss of places left behind.