Carolyn
No subtitle necessary
Every memory arrives
Creeping in, ghostly dances.
Leaving traces of bergamot
Incense of our lives.
Perhaps if there were second chances...
She dreamed her dream and then was gone;
Eclipsed by nothing, counting earth for naught.
About the Creator
Tammy Castleman
I have been an avid writer and photographer for most of my life. In terms of true passions, those are mine. What I lack for in memory, I make up for in recorded detail. We are what we leave behind.
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More stories from Tammy Castleman and writers in Poets and other communities.
Masquerade Party
At six feet seven inches tall and approximately two hundred fifty pounds, Samael presented an imposing figure when he walked into a room. His physical stature may be impressive, but his demeanor is the opposite. The shy, some might say, reclusive personality that he developed as a young boy followed him into manhood. His favorite job was crunching numbers in a quiet one man back office of a fiduciary firm. He was always polite, greeting his fellow workers with a “good morning” or “good afternoon” as he walked to the back of the office where his little hideaway was located, but never tried to engage in conversations.
By Mark Gagnon3 days ago in Horror
Comments (1)
lovely to remember others by their scent