Black and White

Train whistle in the distance

It carries the sound, the sound of my Mother and Father’s voice
I look at black and white photos

But the feeling is deeper than the colors

I know how I feel,  I know who I am

I know that the bodies are gone but the spirits are here

I look around and I remember so clearly.

From Childhood on, their sounds, their touch, their love, their guidance

What you remember isn’t the big things

What you miss are the small conversations, the drying of dishes, car rides going anywhere, out of tune voices singing familiar songs

What you miss isn’t the black and white, What you miss is the ability to produce more black and white

Brenda Cowan

About leeskid (Brenda Cowan)

Breathing, writing, listening
This entry was posted in Rambling Thoughts, Poems and Photos. Bookmark the permalink.

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