The tea went cold,
the coffee is old,
the curtains in the breeze,
a picture that had to freeze.
A moment that has past,
makes this scene last.
Gone from the empty seats,
the curtains movement repeats.
The dust moving around,
silence the only sound.
The site left empty of breath,
an indication of death.
Behind the closed front door,
two laying lifeless on the floor.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 26th, 2024 07:59
- Comment from author about the poem: Brain dump, sorry.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments1
I enjoyed the read, but kinda it is not real!!!
You are right. it is a note left in a murders book. one of my story lines.
That`s good to hear, enjoy your evening
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