
on my stomach,
the pillow over my head,
right ear pressed to
the mattress.
i can hear her voice
resonating through the
springs below,
the vibration reducing the
words to nothing more
than a mumble.
the voice,
unmistakable,
but she’s not in
the room.
We write about widowhood as we live it. Together we examine the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of life as a widowed person. The views expressed here are those held by each individual author. We take no credit for their brillance; we just provide them with a forum for expressing their widowed journey in words that are uniquely their own.
The voice I hear is his voice on the answering machine. "Hello, you've reached Dave at 640-2749, I can't come to the phone right now.......
ReplyDelete