Whisperings ( poem from "Weeping Child to Forgiving Child" by Donna Nieri )

They come in late,
Whispering in my ear,
With low rustling
 
Sound of leaves,
From The shadows
Of the family tree.
 
Leaning over the pond,
Their reflections stare
At me. The same faces
 
I always see.
Water reflecting the
Ancestral family with
Memories.
 
In clouds, to give them
Expression, these
Unrealistic people.
 
They think they have
Dignity and formality.
 
They follow me wherever
I go, then they fly off
 
Into nothingness, but they
Will be back with their
Disparity.

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Copyright 2019 © Donna Nieri.