Even at lower volume it resonates,
station to station, year to ear,
recounting mere memories. Beyond
weather forecasts and politics,
high school dance, an awkward kiss,
friendships then
                                now gone amiss
contribute
           to a never-ending soundtrack.
                                Owned by the soul
                                        on spirit radio.
       A Mother’s voice, a lover’s scent,
not where it was, but what it meant
and what you know.
  Landscape crackles with the night,
turned up
it is
always right.
    You cannot negate the silence of
     moments hardly since forgotten,
hidden
               between volume and verse.
   Sun-riddled afternoons, soft snow
in October, hailstorms in June, each
phase of the moon shines.
            How
we lived, when they died, always
there, all along.
                                  A soothing tone,
the ever-present comfort, we find
            our past in melody, honesty,
                      and the lyric of a song.

© 2016 j.g. lewis

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April is Poetry Month
something new every day
spread the words