Raymond A. Foss Poems

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A quick phone call, a recognition of his voice
instantly I saw his face, the look of his countenance
his bearing, his affect (or the lack there of),
amazing how the mind recalls, sees without seeing
memory so clear, so sure, just how he looks
I could picture his face, as if he were in the room with me
not miles away, months ago since we last talked
funny how much we remember, little details,
of hands, of skin, of sounds, of scents that trigger
a cascade of images, of textures, of certainty
an amazing thing to ponder, on a rainy afternoon
in the quiet of the office, after hanging up the phone

July 19, 2007 16:09

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