MAKE A MEME
View Large Image
| View Original: | Four_years.jpg (3072x2304) | |||
| Download: | Original | Medium | Small | Thumb |
| Courtesy of: | www.flickr.com | More Like This | ||
| Keywords: outdoor Four years The smell of him went soon from all his shirts. I sent them for jumble, and the sweaters and suits. The shoes held more of him; he was printed into his shoes. I did not burn or throw or give them away. Time has denatured them now. Nothing left. There will never be a hair of his in a comb. But I want to believe that in the shifting housedust minute presences still drift: an eyelash, a hard crescent cut from a fingernail, that sometimes between the folds of a curtain or the covers of a book I touch a flake of his skin. ~Pamela Gillilan Four years The smell of him went soon from all his shirts. I sent them for jumble, and the sweaters and suits. The shoes held more of him; he was printed into his shoes. I did not burn or throw or give them away. Time has denatured them now. Nothing left. There will never be a hair of his in a comb. But I want to believe that in the shifting housedust minute presences still drift: an eyelash, a hard crescent cut from a fingernail, that sometimes between the folds of a curtain or the covers of a book I touch a flake of his skin. ~Pamela Gillilan | ||||
