The Phone Call, a poem

Photo Courtesy of Rob Hanson for One Stop Poetry

The Phone Call

I close my eyes and

hear your voice, faintly.

My memory flutters

and skips like an old

movie reel, your voice

distorted; static and distantly

urgent, you told me

you loved another.

I clasped the receiver

for hours.   Did I think

I was holding on to you?

An antique now,

it gathers dust

along with my dreams,

ripped out of the wall,

its purpose, its life

ended.  As mine did

the last day you called.

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, June 12, 2011

This is for One Stop Poetry's "One Shoot Sunday".  Rob Hanson is the photographer that was interviewed.  My week has been so hectic and I had hoped to spend more than 15 minutes on this!  But the midnight hour is upon me so... it is what it is! 

Images from the Past, Part 7 - My Grandmother's 1915 Yellowstone Journal

1915 was nearing the end of the horse drawn carriages in Yellowstone.   A couple of years and they would be gone, replaced by automobiles.  Here are a few photos that feature horses and the various vehicles they pulled...  My grandmother, I believe, is to the left of the white horse.  I had NO idea she could ride!  I am participating in "Sepia Saturday" - please give yourself a treat and see what other photos and memories from the past are being highlighted today.

I like the above as the horse drawn vehicles were soon to be replaced by the automobile... which is "lurking" in the background, above right.    My grandmother is sitting on the far left.

I believe Marguerite is the second to the right.  Doesn't it look like LOADS of fun to trial ride these mountain trails!

This is one of my favorite photos.