The String


The String

You don’t remember
and I can’t forget.
First time we met
invisible string
unraveled between us
tying us
one to another.

They came
to tell me
you were gone,
leaving only hollow
space, empty place
where once you stood,
sat to laugh
even relaxed in comforting
shared silence.

I don’t grieve.
Yet spend odd moments
shedding soft tears
into stilled resistance.
Memories come
unravel themselves,
speak of shared past
’til invisible string
grows taut once again,
can feel you pulling me
ever forward.

Elizabeth Crawford  3/18/10

About 1sojournal

Loves words and language. Dances on paper to her own inner music. Loves to share and keeps several blogs to facilitate that. They can be found here:
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2 Responses to The String

  1. slpmartin says:

    This is an excellent poem…very beautiful emotion in it.


  2. 1sojournal says:

    Thank you. Have to admit that at the first thought of writing it, it seemed to be a mountain that I would never climb. Then stopped those thoughts and started, only to find the flow much easier than I had imagined. Almost didn’t post it because it was way too easy, know what I mean?



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