a whisper

they accumulate
like snowflakes on a limb
and then they are gone
like raindrops on your skin
 taken by the Sun
and when the dry spells come
I hold onto them 
these memories
perhaps long forgotten
by those who shared in them
and those already silent
they drift downstream and out of site
to return upon my final night
and beginning with the first clear light of youth
all but a whisper
....is life

Deckard

I began writing poetry when I was a teenager and it truly saved me from a destructive path. 'Time Heals' will be on my grave stone'. I have 3 incredible kids who are the greatest gifts that God has given me. If I have advice to give to aspiring...

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