I cannot

Here is a tanka prose in response to


alabaster skin
as smooth as I remember
slips from my fingers
she walks away – don’t know where
but gone, never to return…..

Mom said the beauty of character lay in steadfastness. Dad was progressive, believed in going with the wind, being flexible and jumping on opportunity when it appeared. I dare not open many doors in the house, for fear of what layers they might reveal. I cannot confront gaps between the layers, and stories that fell in the cracks never to re-emerge. I cannot confront truth. It applies to her, as much as to unknown bonds which might have created her.


will she be as pure
don’t think I wanna see her
ravaged by wolf Time
destroyed imagination
haunting for lifetimes
 

5 thoughts on “I cannot

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