sounding off the far mountain wall, <br />bouncing back quieter and softer. <br />more beautiful with each fainter repetition <br />and more sad too, the original brightness fading and slowly dying <br />quieter, quieter, quieter til we're not sure which one was last and which one sounded only in our heads. <br />and maybe the last one, the one we imagine we hear. <br />Maybe it's the only real one.<br /><br />Jilted BUTTERFLY<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-echo-3/
