Sounds are Muffled and Sights are Clear

The howl of the wind

sounds more like the wailing of a forlorn infant

echoing off the walls of a now, long-vacant room

The rush of the river

like an undercurrent of soothing tones

whispered from the lips of a father, who since sleeps

Through my window

sounds are muffled and sights are clear

like a memory precipitated by a photograph

Sitting on his one knee

in the creaky old rocking chair

that now sounds like this howling wind

dpd

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