My Grandfather’s Voice

Jessica. Jessica.

My world stops for a moment as I remember his voice.

It’s so hard to hold onto a sound.

Sound becomes fickle in retrospect.

Jessica. Jessica.

How exactly was his tone?

I grasp for the slippery sounds when I miss him the most.

Not his words, just the sound of his voice.

Jessica. Jessica.

My memories are overwhelmed with echoed sound.

A voice is so hard to hear once it’s gone. 

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