The Forgotten One
By now, all the words she ever said
Have been attributed, in their minds,
to someone else.
The curve of her profile,
Once pondered whilst framed by the dinning room picture window,
is now only a silhouette.
A featureless outline
With no memory of the emotion that once lived there–
Her face a betrayer of motives and deep down thoughts.
All she ever wanted was to be remembered. To have influenced the path of one individual’s life and vaguely taken credit for it. Then maybe life would loose some of its limitlessness and she could be tethered to another’s journey, like so many had been to hers.
But she was asking for credit that was due elsewhere. Her words were the gift, not the vessel from which they came.