The Past

The Past I live in a cottage that is 350 years old, wish I could have seen a ghost, because I believe they exist. When I moved in here part of it had been a stable and on warm nights I can still smell hey and the mule that lived in what is now my living room. When I first came here ancient voices emitted from the walls, people who had lived her before had toiled the soil and lived in poverty. One cannot erase the history of past generations where people had lived, even if their physical bodies are no longer here but their souls remain and speak to us if we care to listen. The cottage seemed content that someone had moved in, no house likes to be abandoned. New roof, plastered wall voices subsided and waned altogether, yet on this hot night I do hear sighs, smell the mules sweat. Is it my imagination only if I see the contour of the animal and see a man stroking its head? And talking softly.