A Visit

Grove by Amanda Mossmottle

I went to visit you today
walked through your neighborhood
but nobody was there
nobody answered
I wandered around a bit
there wasn’t anyone to talk to
I called
but only the wind answered
I was missing you
so I waited
even though the light started to fade
nobody ever came, nobody ever answered
my knocking went unnoticed
for so long
that my knuckles were grazed
so I ran my thumb one last time
over your name
carved in granite
and left.

*artwork by amanda mossmottle*


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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3 Responses to A Visit

  1. dearmiracle says:

    Wow! Powerful, indeed. I have lost so many dearly beloveds, including my mother, in this last twelve months. There are voids that can never be filled from this side of the veil. We walk with ghosts, don’t we? Again, thank you.

  2. dearmiracle says:

    By the way, this inspired a poem in me. I am including it in my blog.

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