Posted in d'Verse Poets Pub, Poetic Bloomings, poetry

On the Death of the Family Historian

On the Death of the Family Historian

She was the keeper of the portal
The one who held the only key
And I believed she was immortal
Asked only what pertained to me
Relied on her for memories
And now I sit out side that door
A box of pictures from a drawer
People without names or places
No tiny scrap of family lore
They stare at me with somber faces

Author:

I am a reader, a writer, and a snapper of photos

5 thoughts on “On the Death of the Family Historian

  1. I think we have all reached the point when we say “I wish I’d asked more questions, and I wish I’d listened better”! Family stories used to be told around evening campfires. Today we’re all far too busy watching television!

    Liked by 1 person

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