Wednesday, January 09, 2008


i keep looking for your brief blurry outline through the front door glass

hurrying ahead to be first arrived, for hugs, smiles, bringing little gifts, giving the kitchen sink a "proper"clean

tea and talks and walks

your little shape, too small to be hugged too hard

i keep thinking of you in charity shops

this and that you'd like, but would it fit you now?
our history could be traced through our charity shopping

i keep wanting you

i keep listening for the sound of you

but i'm not sure i remember your voice


Blogger Lee's River/Zlatovyek said...

strange how the voice is the first part to migrate to the deeper levels of consciousness - no longer in the outer ear.
somewhere else inside
I have no idea why it is so.

4:14 PM  
Blogger david mcmahon said...

That story is haunting because it's so universal. Well done.

(Came here from Akelamalu's blog)

7:40 PM  

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