There’s a sense of her, an echo,
in the curve of your mouth
when you say certain things
or see your father turn,
his face so open and like your own
but not enough of him in it
to hide the sense of her, the echo
ringing from your tongue.
There’s a sense of her, an echo,
in the curve of your mouth
when you say certain things
or see your father turn,
his face so open and like your own
but not enough of him in it
to hide the sense of her, the echo
ringing from your tongue.
Carol J Forrester - Writing and Works 
The way you see the ancestors in a face is indeed an echo.
There’s a bitterness in this. The tongue is usually not a good symbol.
For years while shaving, I would get glimpses of my grandfather in the mirror. Having only recently found my biological father, after looking at old photos, I see my Dad in all reflections.
Genetics keep things interesting and are ignored at one’s disservice. Those echoes can certainly lighten or shade…
Genetics are surely echoes! Love it!
I love this poem, Carol .
Your wonderful poem made my heart skip a beat and made me cry, Carol. I see my mum and my nan every time I look in the mirror. I have my mum’s laugh, too, which can be quite spooky.
The echo of our ancestors in our faces, words, body language–a lovely, bittersweet poem. Thank you for joining in!
We do echo our parents in the surprising ways.
Such a lovely tribute.
A fabulous take on the “echo” idea…traits that echo down through generations are startling!
So many different traits can echo in the same person as well. It just depends on who’s around to see them.
So very true, Carol 🙂
I love this.
Thank you.
subtle message of missing. love this.
Thank you.
Aaah what a heartwarming poem!! Loved it 🙂