I feel your touch, though
your hands I’ll never see again.
I taste your lips with
our mouths decades apart.
Your words framed in Winter breath, and
love-sparked shadows on candle-lit walls,
are dreams buried in a Polaroid
gray-fading like the ghost of you.
(Published in the February Issue of Quill & Parchment)
Originals are better than remakes.
About Me
- Pat Paulk
- 2009! 57 years ago in April I was a 2# squealing baby boy. Got a wonderful tan in an incubator. Made friends with plastic tubing, needles and tape. All of which I have zero recollection. I've been well watered and fertilized over the years, and grown quite ripe. Plastic tubing, needles and tape are catalysts for flashbacks without the buzz. Enjoy!
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19 comments:
This one is so sad, but such a good write, Pat.
Sometimes I miss my husband so bad, I wish I could have died with him.
Beautifully written, Pat.
it's already been said
this one made me feel so bad
that i felt good about it
excellent
Thanks AA!
Rebecca, I'm sorry. I'm honored that you added me to your links. Thanks for the compliment!
Floots, What a wonderful compliment, thank you!
sad. beautiful.
You've painted pain and given it form..so true..so beautiful!
This feels
like reaching
into fog.
I know the feeling.
love it.
oh, and thanks for stopping by my site!
the saddness here is almost tangible. excellent!
Thanks Eric, Pincushion, Floating Soul, and Polona!
this is one of your best, I think --
What a wonderful painful poem. One that will stay with me.
Thanks Andrew and Pris!
Yemanja, thank you! thanks for coming by, hope you'll come back!
Just beautiful.
Gray fading like the ghost of you - haunting. Absolutely captures the essence of loss in a Polaroid. Gives irony to the old cliche "Take a picture! It lasts longer." Hmmmm....we'll see.
I feel your touch, though
your hands I’ll never see
again
every night of my life...now....I go to bed, lay awake stare beyond my window into the darkness and think this very thought. Over and over......funny you should write something I only dare think about after the lights are out. I guess I am not so unique afterall.
Thanks Nick and Mandy!
Nea, I think we all are, and we all aren't.
wow. i'm glad i made a trip over here today, Pat. i Love this poem. i've a few ghosts of my own i should properly put to paper, but i think secretly if i did that, they would be free (or i'd be free?) and i'm not sure i want that...
anyhow, beautiful poem.
b.s.
Memories have such intensity at times. This poem beautifully illustrates this. I'm really enjoying your work, Pat. It's a pleasure to stop by and see what's new, even if I don't always have the time to comment.
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