a poem a day for a year #202

by Amy Turn Sharp


when you die you don't ever go away
not all the way into the mystic
people hold you with whisper thin
silken cords
tiny tethers
I don't think about your worldly body anymore
the devilish grin
the silver hair
the kindest eyes
I think about your voice and the way I felt around you
like I could dance and you would always join me
I miss you in the voices of my children
in the softness of your son