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Untitled
By Jean Farnworth
21st CenturyBefore me
I cry, great racheting sounds
words lost in tears; sobbing what I held dear
to my heart.
And before me, to the side
I see her gliding effortless by;
her face turned, chin poised
straight and firm, regally she treads.
A ghost, as surely as I am to myself
as she is to me bringing down around me
all that I held dear
and near to my heart
in flames.
And before me,
she glides effortlessly; not feeling the flames that surround me.
Not seeing the pain that binds me
burning my house to the ground where I lie.
DayPoems Poem No. 1689
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