Light shines through the windows
Illuminating everything in sight
The wooden desk, the unmade bed
all shining golden
The dawn of a new day
the earth’s morning ritual
is a clean slate for everyone else
The rays of warmth
never reach the spot
where the thoughts of you are—
in the bleak crevices and corners
of my grayscale room
My mourning ritual
The sun wakes the world
turning the sky into a bright blue
But it can’t dust you off
a permanent shadow on the golden floor
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Author:
freyaaa (
Offline) - Published: March 21st, 2026 20:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
Whether by absence or by troublesome memories this seems a sad poem. Well written
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