December 2, 2006

A Soldier's Memory

There's a shadow on the dock and I think it's yours.
There's a whistle in the kitchen and I think it's yours.
There's a laugh at a party and I think it's mine,
Laughing at yours.

There's a cry down the hallway and I think it's your child's.
There's a ring from the phone and I think it's your mother's.
There's a torn letter in the mailbox and I think it's mine
Telling me about you.

There's a pillow with salty linens and I think it's mine.
There's a whisper in the dark and I think it's mine--
Missing yours.

Posted by Amanda Cochran at December 2, 2006 2:23 PM | TrackBack

My reading suggests the speaker in this poem has heard bad news about a loved one.

If you're writing about your own sorrow, you have my sympathy. In any case, it's a subtle, effective expression of grief.

Posted by: Dennis G. Jerz at December 2, 2006 5:21 PM

No, not my grief--but unfortunately that of so many others. I picked up the newspaper today and was inspired.

Posted by: Amanda at December 2, 2006 5:24 PM
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