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Dawn Wilson
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Recent poems by Dawn Wilson
The Gathering
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The Power That Is
Season of Grace
Progression
The Road to There
Fruition
Growing Season
undone
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Bittersweet Morning
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           >> View all 170
Faded Memories
by Dawn Wilson
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Rated "G" by the Author.

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He studied her from a faded memory -

her face, soft and open much like a flower –

hair falling like layers of silk,

well past her shoulders –

and the sound of her voice was

light and  breezy.

 

He remembered her as a rare and special gift,

one he had never truly appreciated.

As he thought about her well into the night,

it became Christmas in his dreams –

arriving around them little by little,

almost like snow.

 

And when he awoke, he reached out to the

emptiness that surrounded him, whispering

her name, wondering why he so desperately

wanted what was no longer his.




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Reviewed by Ed J. 9/26/2009
I love this one as a universal realtion. I think everyone has that one love they will never forget and always wish to recapture that haunts them.

Stay well and keep writing

Ed
Reviewed by Bernice Angoh 9/25/2009
I love, love, love your work Dawn! I know I've said that so many times before, but when I read you after being away for a while, I realize how much I love reading your work. They are like mini-novels that give my heart a jolt but then they satisfy tremendously.
Reviewed by jude forese 9/22/2009
when you don't appreciate what you have and then it's gone you lose part of yourself as well ...

very well written poem, Dawn ...
Reviewed by Sheila Roy 9/22/2009
Haunting! Great work:)
Sheila
Reviewed by Abdi-Noor Mohamed (Eagle Of Hope) 9/21/2009
And when he awoke, he reached out to the
emptiness that surrounded him, whispering
her name, wondering why he so desperately
wanted what was no longer his.

Dawn to be frank with you, I have no words to comment on this poem. It blew me away
Reviewed by Carin' Spirit 9/21/2009
Dreamy and soft... hindsight is a bugger.
Reviewed by David Hightower 9/21/2009
Dawn - I like the ambiguity of the ending of this poem. There are so many possibilities that the poem remains with the reader as he/she ponders the possibilities. - David
Reviewed by Gene Williamson 9/21/2009
A powerful poem that grips the old heart. What agony to reach
for the hand that isn't there. One of your best, Dawn.
-gene.
Reviewed by Gianetta Ellis 9/21/2009
Soft and melancholy - the slow simmer of choices made. Lovely writing.
Reviewed by Felix Perry 9/21/2009
As always Dawn you look into the soul of your character and display his or her heart to the world. As this poem suggests we often do things we pay for years later...

fee
Reviewed by Christine Alwin 9/21/2009
It is too bad we can't appreciate in the moment,,,a lesson in life indeed...beautiful poem Dawn
Reviewed by L Hippler 9/21/2009
One many of us can relate to, Dawn.
Reviewed by Jeanette Cooper 9/21/2009
Nice poem, Dawn, and too often people want what they've already lost. Isn't it too bad that folks don't try harder to create harmony in a relationship. It takes just a little extras effort.
Reviewed by J'nia Fowler 9/21/2009
The emptiness he had made for himself. Well said. Hugs, J'nia
Reviewed by Cryssa C 9/21/2009
This has a soft, lilting feel to it...yet in the end, left me with a coolness--the feeling of what will never be again.

Cryssa
Reviewed by Amber Moonstone 9/21/2009
Your poem is beautifully sad, such imagery that makes me almost feel I lost that person. Well done!
Love the description of the woman in the first stanza, lovely!

Peace, love, and light,

Amber "V"
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 9/21/2009
Powerful write, Dawn; well done!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :(
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 9/21/2009
I relate. 'Nuff said.
Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan 9/21/2009
such beautiful writing even in his loss
Reviewed by Elizabeth Russo 9/21/2009
Reviewed by Mr. Ed 9/21/2009
Quite a powerful ending.
Reviewed by Liana Margiva 9/21/2009
EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva
Reviewed by Georg Mateos 9/21/2009
I said once that Solitude is the mother of little sorrows.
Whispers going through silence to the desperately wanted one that never belonged to us...

Georg

Reviewed by John Flanagan 9/21/2009
Dawn,
I see and feel this, feel it too much really.

John
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 9/21/2009
Vividly imaged sadness, Dawn, very well penned!

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Joyce Bell 9/20/2009
EXCELLENT! YOUR PHRASES PRODUCE A VIVID PICTURE OF THE 'ACHE' OF RETURNING TO REALITY. THANKS FOR SHARING AND BLESSINGS.
JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS


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