“The Passing Voice” She’s sitting on the line not willingly I know she’d rather be on the other side of life’s woundings. Thin gray eyes, willowy fingers— a lost prize of vanity, a long breathy silence, with a wilting slow voice tells me she must watch the dead people. I ceased shivering years ago; her … Continue reading The Passing Voice
Written for Poets United Think Tank Thursday The prompt is to write about a favorite sound. I miss this one. “Shattering snow” Shattering the frozen sound barrier of winter morning, Christmas boots tied with leather, that first step onto a bitter snow, seven years bad luck cracking my reflection.