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The Voice I Remember
I remember the voice. Quiet,
soft as a caress on the back of my neck,
coating my heart and mind
the way dust settles
when the air goes still.
A landslide of light
swallowing everything in its path,
leaving all undisturbed, cool
and dressed to face the sun.
I remember the way his voice carried my name
like a prince to the throne.
The voice was strength and calm in the same note
-the last note he ever sang.
I remember the voice. I hear that note
and I know the way home.
poem
by
Ronald Shields
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