Voices

Voices

By Ainsley A. Cheng

There's no photo that can capture

A familiar smell, touch, or sound.

Yet that immense fear -

Fear of being forgotten

Puts you in the lens

That is then forever remembered,

At least,

Just for a little bit.

His laugh when the TV was on

And moments when you'd get upset

Cause his kisses smelled of cigarettes

And his hands smelled of cards.

But all moments when

There was his voice.

His love for you -

Just as he loved his daughter.

You were reminder of when she was small.

He'd dance, sing, and even laugh

Just so you would feel

Love.

And then her.

Still here, and yet feeling so distant.

Her home, no longer hers -

She sits in a different chair now.

Her home no longer smells familiar,

No longer lingers of her love.

You sit in her chair,

Feeling small,

Despite the fact that it's been years

And you fit almost perfectly -

Feet no longer dangling

And the head comfortably on the rest.

She's left behind traces,

Even forgotten things -

Never used things.

It's not the dust that breaks,

But the forgottenness -

That breaks your heart.

And then the things she's kept

Just to remember -

Remember your face

even when she knows

One day, she won't remember

Or maybe you won't.

Their home  no longer is theirs

Even if pages say it is.

Each time you come back,

You just wait and listen -

Both their voices

Seem to be still there.