“Winnowing the Ashen Hours”
Throw the day into the wind
and see what does not fly away.
Not the words spoken at the gate,
not the promise
made over lukewarm tea,
not the grey light
that lingered on the washbasin.
Only the small stone
in your boot remains,
hard and sharp and true,
reminding you
that you walked three miles
to deliver a message
no one was left to read.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 15th, 2026 05:57
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 33
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments4
This one was sad and fell heavy on the ear. The melancholy of words lost too late uttered and pain suffered for naught. Too often the case. A fave my friend
Thanks Soren, some things can't be sugar-coated so long, if at all. And poetry allows us to put them to words, I guess. 🙏🏻🕊️
You are very welcome my friend yes it seems that I have felt it before and perhaps many have.
the irony of the unread message
Quite so and for some quite literally. Thanks my friend 🙏🏻🕊️
most welcome
Good write A.
Thanks O
You know, my friend, I've had moments when I've wondered whether something I did ultimately mattered. It's a difficult question, especially when there's no way to go back and find out. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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