Voices on the Wind Voices on Aging
Fading by Matthew Christianscher Mourning is a beginning. Like your favorite jeans,the pain fades, more and more comfortable as time passes. But when the light dims in front of you. Forced to watch the growing shadow. All you can see is a ghost of what was. All you can hear are sweet tunes. All you can smell are roses from the garden. All you can feel is her warm embrace. Decaying in slow motion. The process creeps on, imperceptible steps, Until mourning begins.