She once lived
at 1418 Hamilton Avenue
in Hamilton, New Jersey.
It was on the first floor
where rain fell
the time I was there.
And I watched,
from a bed with no sheets,
the curtains dancing
in the window
as her begging morphed
into a regretful whisper.
She wrote the letter
a year later,
from the steps
outside her door,
not to tell me
she was engaged,
or to tell me
she was moving away forever,
but to tell me
she loved me
just so
on that rainy night.
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I enjoyed the simplicity of this piece, the sheer humanity in it. I am left wondering, in this new modern world, have you looked her up now that we do have social media?
I never did (I don't even know what her last name was changed to or if she went back to her maiden name).
But I like the memory more than anything. a snap-shot of the soul.
This is lovely!--and I love your answer to Kait :
"...I like the memory more than anything. a snap-shot of the soul" *
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Enjoyed this poem, Robert. The sounds of rain, whispers, curtains at the window. Nice piece.
Thank you Bobbi and Sam! I'm glad you enjoyed!
I was worried; then I read your comment. Whew! Just in a memory. In general, I try to remember the advice about looking back:
"Don't; something might be gaining on you."
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Thanks Jack... That is good advice, indeed.
Good poem.
"And I watched, / from a bed with no sheets, / the curtains dancing / in the window"
Love this part particularly.
Like the revision very much.
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