The sound of memories

The flute is gently delivering the memory,  lives and faces I have never met.

But souls are floating in and out of my reach, their thoughts are whispering in the notes.

Their lives are preserved in the desert sands.

As the clouds float by train whistle reminds me of someone else’s truth.

And the music guides me to knowledge and healing I long to hear.

Brenda Cowan

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About leeskid (Brenda Cowan)

Breathing, writing, listening
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