Poem By Lori Desrosiers

When the quiet dance of time
draws me near to death,
I might recall a time
before there were words
coursing through my mind.
when there were sunbeams
filtering through my nursery window,
songs of sparrows,
church bells,
the organ grinder’s squeal,
clang of milk delivery,
horses’ hooves on cobblestone,
the smell of burning chestnuts.

My father used to say,
“Children are closer to God.”
He died at 63,
mute from brain cancer.
At the end
did he reclaim,
this wordless awe?

Comments about Wordless

Loved it, from the concept through the perfect execution of your subject matter. It manages a little tug at the heart but without doing so overtly. Thank you for this, and more please.
every word to this piece inspires. the questioning - seeking - tone puts aside the self, and enriches the poem in humility. best care & keep on! ! ! ~~~~sjg

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Other poems of DESROSIERS

Mile Swim

Standing in my blue summer-stained one-piece.
Twelve years old, fellow campers’ goose-bumped bodies wait
to start the swim across lake Coniston,
rowboats and canoes ready in case we drown,

Girls 1970

My best friend Bonnie
used to hook her little finger around mine.