Following on from my previous review which focussed on Jodi Picoult’s apparent lack of rounding off her last few novels, my new grievance has arisen having completed her latest novel; Harvesting The Heart. Ever a Jodi Picoult fan, I decided not to be discouraged by my feeling that something was lacking at the end …
The blackened clouds drift Across an electric sky Which threatens to break
A streak of a camera And those flashes again Capturing me in timeless movement But do they really see me? Freezing me For eternity in frame But will anyone Remember my name?
The ghosts of his fingertips Whisper kisses against the keys And his shadows dance In sweet melody Singing memories Echoes of his soul Against the brow of time Scaling stories At the touch of a note Sadness Sorrow Memories of today And of remembering tomorrow