Cold Glow of Morning
Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?
I thought I’d get to kiss your face
And hold your hand when you were sad.
I thought you’d stay, that you would wish
My company when times were bad,
And when you thought of times to come,
You’d seen me there beside you, dear,
In peaceful camaraderie. I’m numb.
My mind’s cut off from pain and fear,
To find you gone. Deserted now,
Already cold to touch, the bed
Glows blankly in the dawn. Oh, how
Shall I survive the months ahead?
I’m missing limbs. I’m incomplete
My feet can’t walk. My tongue won’t stir.
You’re gone, and so am I, my sweet.
There’s no home like the one you were.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
:( :( Tragic, truly. I love the last line; how true. People are home.
- #2203 Posted 2 years ago
Without the love, the people, there's nothing that can feel like home. Without love, the finest mansion or cosiest cottage is a doleful abode; with love, the most drab of streetcorners can be your favorite place.
- #2209 Posted 2 years ago
- Published 2 years ago.
- Story viewed 6 times and rated 0 times.
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