HIS PICTURE GONE
His picture gone
a faded mark upon the wall
within a sparsely furnished room.
Standing still and looking out
the sole possessor of the night
alone in nights vast solitude.
Though black nights reigned
with morning call
still yet devoid of happiness.
In filmy shades of morning light
as flickering neon fades with day
her thoughts effaced by falling rain.
Scarce a sound pervades the room
the window wide with northern view
the sun a stranger scarce a sound.
Loosed yet to pleasures of the day
she felt the flood
of waves that carried no content.
Michael Edwards © September 2017