I don’t believe in ghosts
though sometimes I wish I did-
to see her face and maybe sit for a while together.
Yes, I would be willing to believe
just to hold her hand again
and laugh through my tears.
Grief leaves stains-
a little like sweet tea
on an old linen cloth-
most times
its hardly noticeable.
thecourseofourseasons 
Very touching. I would also believe if it meant just a few minutes with my mom again.
Oh you have captured grief – stains like tea on old linen. Exactly! I know that longing to see them again, even as a ghost. I still long for that. A beautiful poem, my friend.
Sweet truth.
❤ that last stanza is simply perfect, my friend