The Laugh

There was this laugh I once knew.

At the end of a silly joke,

it was there.

When spinning around, dancing, or sledding,

it was there.

During the fourteenth time of singing the same verse of a song,

it was there.

After my mother would share a memory,

it was there.

The laugh was soft and raspy,

and sometimes paused in the middle,

but always faithful.

It followed the performances of children

and lifted and brightened a room.

I can no longer hear it,

but oh, how I wish I could.

Not only is it the laugh that is missing,

but the woman from whom it came-

For her heart could be heard in her laugh.

(In memory of Marylin Woodliff Morrow

February 20, 2008)