I heard your old rocker creak, and for a moment I forgot.
It might have been a stray breeze, or maybe just the cat brushing against it, an old habit from all the years he rubbed contentedly against your legs.
But in my heart it was you, home once again.
Chris Fries is a still-developing writer, slowly working to hone his craft. He is an engineer by vocation, a guitarist by avocation, and a writer by compulsion. So far, his blog has been his primary outlet for his quasi-creative meanderings.
Beautiful!
Thank you very much — I’m very happy that you enjoyed it.
This was an excellent use of the micro-format!
Thank you, Suze!
One of the best stories on this site!
Wow — I’m very flattered, Krystyna. Thank you very much for your kind comment!
nice poem ,for if you really love the elders at home.touching the sound of forgetting
Chris, you engraved a new/old store in my heart. Very well done.