Laying Christmas Ghosts (Poetry)

She thinks about him
while she’s chopping bread
for the birds and then
again when doing
last night’s washing-up

She holds one of those
imaginary
long conversations
on the phone and he’s
pleased to hear her voice

She can sense the warmth
flowing down the line
this is how in life
she had dreamed things might
have been between them

So they reminisce
with affection’s ease
till the final ‘click’
a small glow persists
wrapped inside her coat

The cemetery
has few visitors
she places the wreath
whispers ‘Hello Dad’
too cold to stay long