Written for Reena’s Xploration Challenge.
Reena asks us to respond by using her
prompt lines or going with our own take.

We speak, and then the speaking’s gone….
but something stays behind, unspun,
a shape the silence wears like skin:
the echo that lingers longer than the voice.
The room forgets the words we chose.
The walls remember how they rose.
Not what was said, but how it felt….
that echo, lingering longer than the voice.
So when I’m quiet, love, don’t fear.
I’m only fading out of ear,
not out of reach, not off the shelf….
just echo now, lingering longer than the voice.
NAR©2026
This is “Echoes of Love” by Jesse & Joy
Everything on The Elephant’s Trunk was created by me, unless otherwise indicated, and may not be used without permission. Thanks for your consideration. NAR©2017-present.
So beautiful Nancy.
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Thanks so much, Sadje. ☺️
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💞💞💞
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So lovely Nancy
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Thanks so much, Di. I’m very glad to know you enjoyed this one. ☺️
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‘Not what was said, but how it felt… that echo, lingering longer than the voice.’—what a breathtaking, gentle truth, Nancy! 🤍 Being able to rest quietly in someone’s presence without needing to fill the air with words is such a sacred, beautiful kind of love. Stunning poem!
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That’s exactly how I feel. Too much talk is just clutter. Thanks very much for your gracious fed back.
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Exactly—quiet presence often speaks so much louder than endless words! 🤍 It was such a beautiful, grounding piece to read. Wishing you a peaceful and restful weekend ahead, Nancy!
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Lovely poem, Nancy.
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Thanks much, Jim. Silence is golden.
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I resonate the second stanza more than others.
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I can dig that, Reena, and I’m happy it resonates with you. This whole poem sums up the relationship I share with my husband. Thank you!
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💓💓
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If the walls could talk and relay all the echoes that are heard my dear friend …
If Only the Walls Could Talk
It’s true you know,
Walls can talk.
So, I’ve been told,
By a beautiful Rose.
You’ll have to listen,
Listen very closely.
Put your ear against the wall.
Use a stethoscope if you must.
Listen to the wooden heart,
Standing proud and tall.
A rough soul rendered smooth,
Layers of paint, every hue.
Covering up dusty memories,
Of hearts lost, through years of cavities.
Like the old Wailing Wall,
You’re walking along a history hall.
Your secrets, one and all,
They’ve heard every gasp.
Your children’s moans,
And your lover’s groans.
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Did you write the poem? It’s sublime, my dear friend. 🥰 Many thanks for that and for this wonderful song. 🎶 💙
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Oh yes, it’s an old one of mine and your lovely poem nudged it out of my files my friend 📖🥰
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It’s wonderful! 🥰
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📖📘🥰
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Nance this is a gorgeous, gentle piece of lyric poetry. You capture the truth that relationships are built as much on the quiet spaces between conversations as they are on the words themselves 🙌💞
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It’s true! Turn off the blah blah blah! Being happy and content in the quiet moments is a beautiful thing, without the need too talk. Thanks so much for your ever-gracious comments; I appreciate you. 💕
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Thanks Nance 💞
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Croeso 🥰
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❤️
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absolutely stunning poetry Nance! 💜💜
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Thanks very much, CA! ☺️
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