Picture hanging on a hospital room wall

I once wrote a poem about a picture hanging on a hospital room wall. It was about ten years ago. There’s an empty hospital room again, only this time the picture is real and the poem is undone. It’s the spirit that’s hanging. An indefinitely shaped spirit is haunting me. But the picture is definitely real. I have it all. Or almost.  At last I have something real to rely on, but still so intangible and hard to perceive.