Missing the Little Voices

I woke up this morning

to the sounds of the bellowing wind

brushing through the trees

and in the quiet moment

I missed the little voices

in the distance as they played.

My memory replays the sounds

I’ve heard each morning

as in the distance they played

they scream, they shout

the little voices, without a doubt

are no more there

O how I miss the little voices.

O. Stephen Peart. 2020 ? All rights reserved

Motivation for this Poem

This piece was penned during our period of isolation resulting from the COVID-19 pandemic. The writer came outside on a very windy day. As he listened to the wind, his memory retraced the sounds of children in the nearby neighbor school as they played. In that moment, the writer felt a missing gap of a life experience that we often so take for granted. Our children are our life and the joy of our offspring. This piece seeks to celebrate the little voices.

The Last Write is a series of poems in response to the state of social isolation. All pieces where written in the month of April recognized as National Poetry Month. The pieces are dedicated to the lost voices going through a pandemic and is a production of Released Expressions.