Saturday, May 29, 2010

He Was

He Was

He was a flute to my violin
lucid, clear, piping through
my wailful strumming
interrupting my discordant shrieks
with tones of wisdom.

He was thick, rich cream
smoothing my black coffee panic
making each gulp 
palatable and smooth
with his silky intonations.

And now, he's a ghost who hovers
lingers, whispers, warns
reminding me I'm whole at last
because now we speak freely.
Kindred spirits always do.

Copyright 2010 JO Janoski


  1. This takes my breath hauntingly touching, especially so as it brings only one person to mind. Thank you, Jo. I hope I am able to write again some day....

  2. Oh Jo I love this, simply one of your best.

  3. Karen, you already write. It just isn't making it to paper lately. You were born a writer.