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13th November

A dandelion seed ball - how fragile it is floating the still air. I reach out but it somersaults in the disturbance of my moving hand. I want to hold it but it keeps floating away. It moves on the slightest puff of my breath. I've caught it ! cupped in my closed hands - but it's no longer whole only a collection of parts, fragments of what was, a memory now. Hell…it's the 13th today !. My fathers birthday. He's been dead twenty seven years. I should have told him that I loved him far more than I did.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Date: 11/14/2024 12:17:00 PM
Paul, truly what is just beyond our reach can be fleeting and so fragile. Wonderful metaphor for what gets away from us, never to be re-captured! I enjoyed this thoughtful, introspective poem. Blessings to you.
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Paul Willason
Date: 11/14/2024 6:15:00 PM
So pleased to receive your thoughtful and kind comments Sam. Thankyou for taking the time to read and to let the poem speak. Very grateful. Regards, Paul
Date: 11/12/2024 9:25:00 PM
Intriguing comparison, Paul. Too often we are left 'clutching at the air' or 'holding the (empty) bag.' Resonates deeply with me in my relationship with my father. Thank you, Gershon
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Paul Willason
Date: 11/14/2024 6:10:00 PM
There are moments that suddenly cause an instant connection to a memory. I am reminded of that classic example of Proust when he recalls his mothers madeleine cakes. In this case it is the collision between the image of change and fragmentation and the memory of a loved one, now recalled in the blown seeds of memory. Value your comments dear Gershon.
Date: 11/12/2024 3:57:00 PM
Paul…..l related and was reminded of the dandelion catching l did and loved as a girl….it took me back and gave me a warm feeling with a tinge of sadness of yesteryear….oh to be that young and playful again! I hope you dads birthday isn't to sad a day….If you had a good relationship l am sure he knew how much you loved him! Debx Soupmail!!
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Paul Willason
Date: 11/14/2024 6:00:00 PM
Ah memories....it is a good feeling for me to learn that the poem gave rise to some pleasant memories. To cause such a response in the reader is music to any poet...so kind my dear Deb.

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