Northern_Lights_2021

26 I have no coins to pay the ferryman, and so I wait upon this bank lonely and tired and aching for home. The only thing I’ve left to offer is my poor broken lyre, its song: a ballad of sorrow your name: the only lyric it sings over, over, over. Euridice As flowers follow spring air and good weather, I loved you in a time of plenty, and fell drunk in the summer heat of your gaze. Ignoring the cold burden of autumn days, I lost you to the cold grip of the grave. And so here I will stay. And here I will wait. And sing your name for eternity. My sister missed a call from me and then I heard her voice. Not my sister. My mother, who never passed 47. She was taken too soon, the only empathy I ever heard. Her inflection was joyful and bright, I could spot it to this day. My sister kept the number of the home phone. My mother’s voice remained as the greeting. I normally hang up. However, this one is different. I will not leave a message, But I’ll stay long enough to hear her voice. Then the line will go dead. My day a little better than before. Euridice Emeline Glover Leave a Message at the Tone Madi Filber