The Still Small Voice
SultryRose's Signatures
Some dreams die hard !
When you're looking for your voice
Mine, race the moon to follow tall fishing ships
with billowed sails, gleaming in the sunlight,
across the silvery sea of hallowed recollections
to those sacred places of the heart..
Memories of newly salted fish drying on racks
in the lazy hot summer sun, past old decaying
picket fences, with open gates, looking like missing teeth
in a mouth that has forgotten how to smile.
Past half buried old moss covered churchyard's silent,
full of crumbling, tall black granite stones, pronouncing
for me their names, their beloved names.
those who bid me come join them in their night
Just down the road ,there is a special place where
silent rocking chairs sit and gather silken cobwebs,
they beckon me to sit and tend those tallow candles
burned out long years ago behind the now dirty windows
Lovingly, I reach my trembling fingers out to softly caress
worn ecru portraits from my past, those faces that rise up
like ghosts to start those silver tears that flow like ink
across this written page, to record where dreams
cast shadows of ivory rememberance and unbearable loss
Finally I find it,
The voice that speaks the poets silence!
By jollynoblefrog
© 2009 jollynoblefrog
(All rights reserved)
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