It’s a poem, so we can invite the invisible to appear, but will we? Are we brave enough to face the invisible? With words we can create images that stare right into our hearts.
Missing my late son, I take down an old photograph of him at five years old. He is holding at a fall festival, this son that I lost. His hair is getting long and slants across his forehead. My young son squints his eyes at the afternoon sun.