Random phone calls to talk about the rain
or the cat,
the food that I never had,
or all the mundane things
life is made of.
Good morning messages
that I never open,
forwards I care no more for,
or an emoticon to tell me
they exist.
Old trees, said a friend,
set copious blossoms
in their final years.
Discover more from A Hundred Quills
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
A Hundred Quills 
This is so beautiful Sonia 😀 I love how you bring such life to your words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And I’ve heard it said that stars shine brightest when they’re about to die.
Loved your lines. Thanks dearly. Be well please.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very moving poem Sonia. Thank you. I agree, the last lines close it beautifully.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovely lines. So expressive.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We each find our own way to mourn the passage of time as we try to hold onto it a little longer. Those last three lines made the poem for me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Profound last lines, Sonia.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sad and beautiful, Sonia 💕🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person