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There is no catching air with my fingers.

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There is no catching air with my fingers.

There is no capturing a moment in time.
Memories  blur as I reach for them
Eluding my grasp
Evading my efforts to clutch them to my chest
To brand them on my brain
Dancing away
Just like she did.
And all my struggles to resuscitate
to resurrect
to breathe life back into them
through words
through images
bring back only shadows of the joy that 
But, oh.
How she danced.

This “poem” was written in response to a writing prompt I found at MamaKat’s wonderful blog. If you ‘d like to read more responses to the five prompts she suggested, just click this magic button, and you’ll be transported to lots more (and probably much better) writing.