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Like A Monsoon Rain

If someone handed you a box with everything in it that you had ever lost what is the first thing you would look for? Holiest of things that I could never recapture like the feel of dad's hand in mine on a warm summer day when all the world was time ... A most sacred memory wrapped in tissue settled deep inside a box safely locked Underneath my bed a tarnished locket that wasn't even mine... The child within me, the one that got away nineteen and gone too soon A monsoon rain that September remembers soaked and filled with longing, The face of youth my brother's Marco Polo voice inside a chlorinated pool just before he died

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Silent One

Date: 1/20/2024 6:55:00 AM

I love how your poem is a poignant journey into the realms of memory, elegantly weaving together moments that are both sacred and deeply personal. The opening lines evoke a sense of longing for the 'holiest of things' that time cannot recapture, such as the warmth of a father's hand on a summer day. The metaphor of memories being stored 'safely locked underneath the bed' adds a layer of protection and preciousness to these cherished moments...

Mystic Rose Rose
Date: 1/20/2024 10:51:00 AM

you read me so well dear friend, exactly !

Hiya Sharma

Date: 1/19/2024 6:57:00 PM

Oh my, sigh.. This one made me so emotional dear Rose.. Such soul-stirring emotions you've conveyed here with deep artistic essence of poetic elegance, wherein your imagination brought them back to life, who once slipped in an abyss of 'loss'.. Your dad and your brother's memories will always live in your heart, along with their love for you... And the child within you, still plays sneak peek with innocence.. You are a golden soul, thank you so much for sharing this with us.. I love it, a fave ~

Mystic Rose Rose
Date: 1/20/2024 10:52:00 AM

A Golden Soul, I high honor to bestow on someone you never met, yet, I feel your soul is capable of seeing through many veils dear one, so I accept the compliment, with love and humility.