I can scarce hear
A voice too far,
Now beyond reach
Undoubtedly fading,
Thusly I fear
I’ll find in time,
The voice that died
Must have been mine,
For shout or screech
No one appears,
Who can tell I am not here
And thus beyond reach,
Too far to see or hear!
Poetry on a canapé 
Wonderful, hauntingly wonderful. It can be read in so many ways: aging, depression, dying, death, and mystery of change and self-realization.
It is such a treat to receive comment from one who truly understands the ultimate purpose of poetic expression, and as well has the imagination and far reaching ability to interpret the pictures inspired. Thank you Paulette for being there with me! Jean-Jacques
I am continually reminded that we must recognize and give value to the voice that is within us. We live in a finite existence, yet understand the infinite. Destiny is a forward motion. Our voice is our legacy, our words remain behind. And yes, our voices will fade, but only because we join with others who shared our journey.
Thank you for your life-affirming and poignant reminder….
I thank you Rebecca, for giving my words, that extra emphasis that forces one seek meaning to this reflection in more than one direction. Excellent! Jean-Jacques Fournier