Last Rites
Time purees
And missing you
No longer holds a shape
"No Vacancies"
Screams the sign
No room at the inn
Another place, then
Another town
Your scent, your voice
Their colours fading slow
Softly slip their moorings
And are lost in the wind
The last outpost
The far-flung reaches
Where nothing echoes
And even your name
Melts in my mouth
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Author:
Doug MacGowan (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 2nd, 2016 13:05
- Category: Love
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments1
WELCOME DOUG ~ Thanks for an elegant first poem with ~ however a sad note of finality ~ LAST RITE. I'm 33 and have experienced death of Family & Friends many times' It is the "Last outpost ~ where nothing echoes" that brings home to one the finality of DEATH. Thanks for sharing ~ hope you found it cathartic ~ I found it very moving especially the fiinal doublet. Yours BRIAN Please check myt poems ~ Thanks B
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