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Echoes in Time
©May 1st 2022, Olan L. Smith
Why is your face obscure in my memory?
The mist of tears do not cloud my vision,
But the memory of you has begun to diminish
Into time, a distance I cannot span with desire.
I try hard to hear your voice, but it cannot come
To me. The photos don't do you justice in
Faded colors or the pale of black and white.
Mom I long for you to speak to me but,
Nothing comes, no sound, no vision, nothing.
I watched you pass from this world to the next
With a whimper, a stale breath, and sigh,
Your heart also whimpers, a silent beat.
I cannot cross from here to there, the span
Is too great. Once, I heard you call my voice
And I ran to look for you, but I knew you were
Dead, echoes through the synapse of my brain?
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YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Poetry"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
