What we’ve seen

Observations, we've all made
Them, they're subtler than a
Whisper of disapproval or the
Mention of a disappointment.
Quiet thoughts, barely thought
Tucked away, secreted deep in
A dark corner of memory. You
Will know it as a fact. His mom
She was just like that, you will
Blurt it out, no malice, and no
Criticism, you resent neither
One of them for it's just how
They were, are in memory, and
In your observation. There's 
No whisper of discontent  on
Your mind, no disfavor to put
A pall over your thinking and
Hold you fast. And hard, in a
Strange place, booing ghosts.