“The Sound of Grief”
Whispers—your whispers
dead & gone.
You are everywhere—
or was it me, all along?
It’s quiet now.
Except for whispers.
Whispers?
Whispers.
People and pages and years—
coffee spoons.
Learning too late,
holding onto my love … for you.
- a little poem written by me about a year ago. Loss and grieving is a funny thing.













