"ghosts" a Cinquain Garland #63

We are,
merely faint winds,
gliding torrents of fate,
have pushed us away from what we feel,
from earth.

Meshed away,
together apart,
blessed rain water the same,
shimmers of renewed life one heart,
flowing.

Glitter,
shines intertwines,
in cascades of soft pink,
floating feathers dance endeavor,
in ink.

Dabbled,
on skies soft blue,
spirits absorbing quaint,
soft whispers of winds eloquence,
subdued.

Finding,
the clouds of rain,
to dance the dance of 4,
Indian spirits of the ghosts,
that came.

We are,
together apart,
in cascades of soft pink,
soft whispers of winds eloquence,
that came.