Member-only story
The Small Whisper of Hope
Alone in the night, the memories keeping me awake
Dark nights force me inside my own head.
Staring at the grayness of my ceiling over
the bed, one hour, two, get up and walk fool.
No moon, thick snow clouds, grass frozen
with frost, birds huddled deep in the branches,
silent, no breeze to rustle the dead leaves, nothing
but blackness and the stillness of an empty church.
Faint echo of my steps bouncing off darkened houses
as I walk alone, driven into a cold night by a mind wide
awake, memories too much for the small lamp near my
bed, the flashes in my head refusing to rest until I push
my old body into the mindless sleep of the worn out.
My only thoughts flashbacks thriving late at night.
My mother’s hand on my arm, I wasn’t home when
she passed, the smile of a friend who died young, but
stops by for a visit in my head to wonder about the life
he missed I am living. A song I hated from college plays
on continuous loop in my addled brain, her song, playing
loudly as she left me in the car that killed her, now I find
myself singing along softly to the darkness…