Traces

Poem

Are there any leftovers
from sounds I no longer hear
Are vibrations from the
volume of people moving 

enough to make a noise?

A tingling tickles my ear
Listen, no time will warp
The warm laughter from a grandparent
A response to reassure 

if I’m on the right track 

Sound is memories 
Occupy a place under your skin
Her voice, whispers from the other side
Movies torn to pictures in your mind

you hear words no one said.

Photo my own.