Tuesday, February 28, 2012


Tears streak through the white washed mask
so well displayed for all to see
Bare wood memories start to splinter as
the mind grasps the reality of loneliness
Odors of yesterday fill the daydream
while sounds arc across phantom air
Visions of smiles and shuffling feet move
through cobwebs in the mind

Sometimes what you do know can hurt
even if you don't know when

Death sleeps silently unable to waken
from its ghostly slumber of the ages

No comments:

Post a Comment