Listening for lost parents

 

In the dark, brush of wings,

an owl a message brings,

sound of your voices springs, shivers skin

 

They sing across the sky,

I feel them pass, they fly,

no need for wings; I cry still today.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

8 thoughts on “Listening for lost parents”

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