For the journey

He wore the words like a necklace.
Each silent syllable a bead.
Pearl by pearl, a string of unspoken sentences.
His favourite book steepled on a sunken chest.
Treasure without end.
I wonder now what page my mother chose.
What verse she hears that he cannot.
Echoing for eternity.

Published by

Richard

Training company boss by day. Poet and a whole heap of other things by night. Plus the son of a mother who was killed in a care home while living with dementia.

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