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The Letter

by Walter Jones (Age: 72)
copyright 03-22-2014

Age Rating: 16 +


In the quiet of my evening
Heard that old banshee scream
Threw her image on my parlor
Returned in another dream
Wiped the tears from the pillow
Threw the bottle to the wall
Took another swig of tomorrow
Cast your voice against the hall

Got me a touch of knowledge
Left on the floor
Got me a place for living
Hung it on my front door
Got me tomorrow
Ina sorrow cup full
Got me your shadow
Following it shore to shore

In the amber of truth left to burn
Got me your letter
Hell of a way to learn
Got me your bible
Let it lay upon the floor
Got my your rosary
Left it hang on my door
Got me yesterday
Books of picture in memory to store

In the rain I walk
To the songs we wrote and sang
Got check in the mail
From the jail of we planned
Got a picture of our daughter
On a stage in Alabama
Got a letter from our son
He is walking my steps in Vietnam
Got a letter from the lawyer
Divorce is sealed and dead

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Total Reads: 461

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        12-31-2014     Wayne Thomas        

That old banshee, would that be the ex? Like Morton Salt sometimes the way life leads us--when it rains.... Explosion of feelings, fueled by a letter, blown open by the bottle. Pounding of rhythm, echoing heartbeat, all too clear memories hanging like rosary on the door. Whew!

        03-24-2014     Frank Fields        

Too many thoughts, too many images, too much grief and sorrow, too many doors opening too quickly and not having the decency to as quickly close. But from it all what have you left behind? Words stronger than those from any preacher's pen or tongue. The reality of life's darker sides sometimes must be shown. I'm glad I was not behind your pen when these words were written, but I'm heartfelt glad for your courage to write them.

Frank :)

        03-22-2014     Mae Futter Stein        

There are a lot of things to start in the quiet
of the evening. All things open and happenings
burst out all at once. It's good to get a touch
of knowledge and pictures to restore in your memory. Walking in the rain, just listening to the songs you both wrote. Your daughter and your son's memories together in tact, then getting the lawyer with the divorce papers in side. When it
rains, sometimes it pours all at once. Very
sad poem, but I followed it like a movie of sadness. All things are for a reason. Thank you Walt for sharing. Well done. Hugs.....

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