A Past so Present

Freeverse

Still we hold a colour at our watchful eye,

a voice in our attentive ear.

We escape nothing from our mystifying past.

Perhaps we sing a song, old or new,

feel dark or light against a so unsheltered face.

In ears a voice remains.

In an eye resides the face of a loved one.

Colour, voice, songs will never leave one's life,

though one stands before that loved one's grave.

(Aug 2022)

Reviews

[Lisasview]

First read of yours...
I enjoyed your free verse poem...
Feels like memories are what is important... as we stand remembering ...at the grave.
Lisa, now in Spain