Stir of echoes 

I heard his laughter that first night alone in our bed – his spot once filled with warmth like a furnace that kept me warm on winter nights, now cold, empty and so very lonely; and I wondered if it was a dream from the edge of sleep, or the stir of an echo from the realm in which he has shifted and now dwells – where the pain is no more and he’s found freedom and peace, and his old buddy Larry to laugh with once more. j.terry 9.27.15


Published by jill

Riding the current of life's changing tides, while capturing my journey in images and words...

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