So cold was the night that she breathed a weary sigh.
I gazed into her eyes as she pointed towards a group of trees.
As my eyes adjusted I saw that old dirt path she spoke of.
I knew that she had walked down it many times before.
After that night it would be my turn to do the same.
I reached out to hold her hand, but she was no longer there.
"Where does the path end?", I asked myself.
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Author:
Kadesh Vega (
Offline) - Published: January 2nd, 2018 01:35
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 34
Offline)
Comments3
My kind of poetry - enigmatic and beautifully scribed
Where, indeed, does it end? Does it ever end? A beautiful, surreal write, Kadesh!
Great write
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