The rotting lace
In broken window gasps
To catch its breath
Its memory stretch
Deserted, desolate
Eyes to world
Once stood proud
Now bitter spurns.
The life that lives
Beyond empty rooms
Broken furniture
Rusted tools
Left by those
Now far away
Unanswered letters
Lonely day.
The stubborn face
Of an uneven door
Crooked silent
Eyes to floor
Unproud and restless
As night to drown
Its broken heart
Its deathbed shroud.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Online) - Published: September 18th, 2026 02:20
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Online)
Comments1
Good write N.
You would have time to answer those letters but you been waiting so long at that bus stop. lol.
Exactly, its a full time job including overtime waiting for no 7 lol
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