The Song Beneath The Dust - Peter A Witt

poem read by Timothy Arliss OBrien

The Song Beneath the Dust
Peter A. Witt


A summer wind leans in through the screen door,

smelling of cut grass and rain waiting its turn.

I sit on the porch step, barefoot, as if

grounding myself might anchor the drifting hours.

Somewhere, a neighbor strums simple chords,

like rain tapping slowly on a tin roof,

notes lifting like moths toward the porch light of memory.

My grandfather's hands, thick as bark,

once wrapped around guitar necks and steering wheels,

now folded in the grave like a well-worn hymnbook.

The sky is the color of old denim,

faded but stitched with stars.

I hum along with the breeze,

every breath a verse,

every silence, a refrain—

as if the world were trying

to remember a song it once knew.


Peter A. Witt is a retired university professor who took up writing poetry to recapture the ability to write

meaningfully about the world around him after being buried for 40+ years in stultifying academic writing.

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Dark Without Us - Scott Virtes

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I Can Only See With Our Shared Eyes - Diavolo Ray