The cobbler in the basement.
his ghost flickers in and out of my imagination.
A cobbler shop once existed in what we called our basement.
Gone long before we moved in.
i heard him some nights
rustling among the attic’s blankets, lamps and boxes,
perhaps looking for his tools among
stored and forgotten items.
what dreams and secrets did he learn watching
me, my brother, my sister?
must be he followed me to california.
may be ghosts get cold.
some nights fresh-worked leather’s scent
pulls my dreams back to boyhood.
his soft steps cross the room,
this specter from my past.
—Terry Redman
My card says, “Mystery Fan, Bibliophile, Writer, Raconteur.” I have published in non-fiction, fiction and poetry. Reading or viewing TV have always been a part of my life, tending toward suspense, character-driven fiction, biographies, mysteries and biographical non-fiction. Add seasonal NFL games and the Warriors to complete the menu. Currently I enjoy writing creative blank verse poetry.