Her tea sits there cold on the table,
her mind is no longer still or stable.
The past has confused her thoughts,
too many people took their shots.
Weakened she's slowly loosing her fight,
her curtains closed to hide her site.
Once alive with life and glee,
a broken woman is what I now see.
Offline)
Comments2
This is a poetic portrait painted in words of rhyme. Nicely done
Enjoy your write
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.