Shattered mirrors of what we were,
every shard holds a laugh, a tear.
Empty chairs echo your name,
ghosts of fingers linger, untame.
Love’s last ember cools to ash,
heartbeats stumble, feelings crash.
But dawn creeps in, soft and slow,
mending cracks where wildflowers grow.
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Author:
ROSHI (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 12th, 2026 21:51
- Comment from author about the poem: I haven’t written in awhile, at least not published. I think I am back now
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments1
This poem starts with clear images of a broken beginning however the ending has possible multiple meanings. It is in this uncertainty that the strength of the poem lies. Nicely done
Thank you!
You are most welcome
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