Ghost (おやすみ わたしの街 Ⅲ)

On the platform of a long‑lost line, An old note caught by the wandering wind. Its rain‑blurred letters softly claim, “I was here”—a fading flame, As if calling for a soul to find. The city has forgotten its name, And the streets lie drowned in tangled green. Yet somewhere in the passing air, Your warmth still lingers, faint but fair, And I stopped, unsure of what it means. From beyond the quiet veil, Carried on the scent of rain, Your small voice stirs a spark, Deep within my guarded heart. Even if the world turns ash, That lullaby will still remain— Across a hundred turning years, It has finally reached me now. Fleeing from a colony built to fight, I crossed the frozen, empty wild. Past rusted chains and “Do Not Enter,” Through heavy fog I dared to venture, Back to where the first collapse began. Before me, holding back my breath, A ruin bathed in gentle light— Cruel in beauty, bright as grace, As if forgiving all this place. And in that glow I breathed again, As though you whispered, “Welcome home.” Following the rusted track, The empty lab and fallen shelves— Your words, though we have never met, Like stranded feathers, softly set, Guiding me through drifting mist. Were you frightened, left alone? Or strong because you dreamed ahead? On that torn and trembling page, Six faint letters still remain— “I was here”—and now they hold me up. In the stillness, I seek your trace, Your lullaby across the years. At the dawn of this unkind world, There shone a light so strangely pure. That light becomes my anchor now, And you reside within my heart. In the quiet, calling back, I hum your lullaby aloud. Two lives never meant to meet, Cross above the ruins now. The little light you left behind, I’ll carry towards the morning. From the place your town lay dreaming, To the dawn that rises over mine— Are you hearing this, wherever you are? “I am here as well.”