The Forgotten Life of Velma Evans
From room to room,
she wanders and examines,
each room set with half drawn shades.
So many things leave no impression,
but there are pictures here and there,
that briefly incite a quicker heartbeat
and some pattering of the tiny feet of remembrances.
A vague memory,
almost a seed taking root,
If she could have recalled:
He was always a plane taking off
against the wind,
the smell of Aqua Velva in his cheek.
But, these, only mere images,
fleet and fading.
And if it hurts to remember
once being happy,
then she feels no pain.
(Linda Imbler has five published poetry collections and one hybrid ebook of short fiction and poetry. She is a Kansas-based Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net Nominee. More information can be found at lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com)
The Beautiful Space-