I’ve forgotten
the sound
of my father’s voice.
Gone,
with leaves on water.
Poem form: Ginsberg’s American Sentence
of 17-syllables. 4 Miss B. ©️ Misky 2019
It's Still Life
poetry and prose
poetry and prose
I’ve forgotten
the sound
of my father’s voice.
Gone,
with leaves on water.
Poem form: Ginsberg’s American Sentence
of 17-syllables. 4 Miss B. ©️ Misky 2019
It's Still Life 
8 responses to “#2: “Leaves on Water””
Sigh. Yes. We’ll remember when we hear them again.
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So touching and a whiff of sorrow.
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I only allow myself a whiff now and then. Eventually everyone has to put their shoes back on.
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You are right. The whiff stays forever but we have to keep on living
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But do please be kind yourself, Debi.
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Thanks, Misky. I appreciate your friendship.
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So much yearning and grief here. Whew.
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I wish I had a voice to go with some of the folks I lost before memories formed… But again, one must live in the present.
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