A Past So Present

Still we hold a colour at our watchful eye, a voice in our attentive ear. We escape nothing from our mystifying past. Perhaps we sing a song, old or new, feel dark or light against a so unsheltered face. In ears a voice remains. In an eye resides the face of a loved one. Colour, voice, songs will never leave one's life, though one stands before that loved one's grave. (Aug 2022)