flashback in time
to a youthful sailor
blue eyes and a beguiling smile—
four daughters laugh
he walks each down the aisle
paving the future with new hope— joyful.
some share his coal-black hair
all learning lessons of family—
. . .
Even the briefest form of poetry can have a wingspan of immeasurable breadth. —Jane Hirschfield
I sat with three cinquain prompts: coal, pave, and flashback. The image that came to my mind first was of an old photograph of my Grandpa. Words have a mysterious way of conjuring images.
I wonder if anyone receives similar unannounced visits.
The spirits of people we love seem to wisp by and breathe little reminders in our hearts of a time long past. Before we know what has happened, coal-black hair and blue eyes pierce into the now. Memories rushing past, a torrent of bygone days full of love, tragedy, hope, and moments that made us who we are and who we may yet become.
. . .
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