Secrets, one by one

There is a girl who follows me wherever I go
She wanders about, moving from thing to thing
Be they flowers, trees, windows of stores
She never speaks
Just hums and sings
Often says nothing at all and I’ll forget about her
Until she begins humming her tuneless lilting melody
At first I mistook her for one of the ghosts
But she has her own visitors that trail behind her
Sometimes one, often two or three
They dance about and murmer to one-another

I don’t think she’s tied particularly to me
Her attention wanders
She doesn’t follow me into work anymore
And often won’t be waiting for me when I finish
I imagine she finds someone else to follow
To be guided and led about the world

I mused once that she collects things
Textures, sounds, experiences
I don’t know if that is her purpose
Indeed, her behaviour may indicate no purpose at all
Whatever her motivations, I let her be
She does no harm
Perhaps she collects the things I no longer can
If that be so, all the better for her
I wish her well on the journey