Just A Small Box.

 


A tarnished air

now falls unbound

upon the shoulders

of the day.

 

wounds still gape

where sorrow bleeds,

to turn all hope  to dust.

 

Darkening panes cast

not the joy

beheld within the eye.

 

Encased the ashes:

stilled the heart

that gave each breath

to me.

© sweetwater 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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Mitch

Hi Sue! Beautiful short again. Is it ‘encased’ or ‘incased’ – one of those words I’m never sure of!

painful to read, very effective poem
Oh my God! it’s going to be a living hell then.

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