The Echo is Neither Sound nor Hope
empty trees
a darkened
window
the void
between chairs
unchanged
as if you’d never spoken
* * *
This first appeared in April 2015.
O at the Edges
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
O at the Edges 
I luv this !
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Thanks very much!
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Striking image coupling! (Was he really ever there?) I’ve seen this one before, but it resonates now differently, here in my own familiar home forever more missing physical visits from my departed son. His words echo through the rooms, without sound, without any hope of him ever speaking aloud face-to-face. He would’ve LOVED these images – had a flair for seeing things in unusual ways – the tree limb shadows captivate the imagination! Memories create crisscross shadows at odd moments as I go about normal activities …
Are these photos you took? From digital sources and caught your eye?
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I found the photos on morguefile.com. I was hoping to find an image of empty chairs on a porch or front yard, and these two popped up. They seemed so appropriate to the poem.
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