Memories Age Badly

memories age badly,
turning brittle like dead butterfly wings,
flowers fallen long before them,
songs packed into the dust;
but whispers swallow sound and sighs,
growing, growing every day,
what you said in my ear that night,
how long before it becomes a scream?

 

Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: Whisper)

Advertisements

51 thoughts on “Memories Age Badly

  1. For me your poem came as a sucker punch – you have hit the spot so well and described what happened to my mum – but in the end she couldn’t whisper or scream.

    Like

Please leave a Thot...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s