The Forgotten voice
Home at last home at last I said to myself. Relieved, I headed towards the couch in my living room floor to lay down for a time for peace. As I pondered through my thoughts I notice a portrait of my father in his 20's on top of a metallic bookshelf with various metals and diplomas around it. His hair was long perhaps 3-4 inches as his skin seem to be untouched with no battle scars. The radiance of his skin shines from the afterglow of the camera flash and his eyes seems like that of an innocent man which illuminates as the camera flash shines upon it. I began to reminisce through my past memories of my dad and soon began to realize. His voice... What was it? Burying my face into the pillow behind me I began a imagery of past memories of me talking to him. Words would slip out of the figure as it spoke to me, but the voice would seem to be replaced with that of another man. Argh! Why can’t I remember! I said to myself as I paced around the living room floor. Soon I began to realized that I've lost a special part of my life and hopefully that will never happen again.
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