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Music: The Scent
of Cedars. Subscribe to this site on Substack |
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read the poem as an MP3 file. Watch me
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Memories are all that
I have left. Each becomes a well-worn photograph. Missing is the warmth, the touch, the heft Of life, the smile, the reassuring laugh. Real people change, they grow, relate, unfold. In time we share the adventures of their lives As they marry, have kids, change jobs, grow old, Loving us -- their parents, husbands, wives. Dead people are alive in us, but they Are not within themselves. No love revives Your love, which I once cherished day-to-day. Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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