Men, Women, and Ghosts

"Her little feet tapped softly down the path. Her soul was listless; even the morning breeze; Fluttering the trees and strewing a light swath; Of fallen petals on the grass, could please; Her not at all. She brushed a hair aside; With a swift move, and a half-angry frown. She stopped to pull a daffodil or two; And held them to her gown; To test the colours; put them at her side, Then at her breast, then loosened them and tried; Some new arrangement, but it would not do…" 'Men, Women, and Ghosts' is a collection of stories expressed as narrative poems, drawing from the author's view that music, poetry and storytelling are all interwoven as one single idea.