Photo by adrianna geo on Unsplash
A melancholy tune, a wistful thing
I miss him again, with every breath
My longing soul, in sorrow's death
The sun sets low, the day is done
Leaving me alone, with only one
Thought of him, my heart's delight
I miss him again, with every sigh
About the Creator
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181 Keeping Watch
Each day she watched through her window. Watched? Perhaps an exaggeration: a monochromatic nuclear aftermath remaining of the world, blurring into a blindness--loss of contrast and depth of field. Achromatic aberrations displayed a waste-scape stratified in grays.
By Gerard DiLeo2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Great shout Sharp. Go ahead!