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swept to the center of the room.
A hint of what once was
when the thing was whole,
complete and solid.
It no longer holds the promise,
the bright, fresh-squeezed juice
of a new day,
the breaking dawn
or birdsong.
Time hangs
in that hour before dawn
in the stillness of a silent night
in the shatter of a broken vessel.
Shards of jagged glass
in the center of the room.
Stepped over, swept aside,
no longer whole,
complete and solid.
©2011 R.M. Talbot
5 comments:
I like this, and the image 'time hangs' etc.
I can't stop thinking that that glass will never hold another drink...
Thank you, Andy!
Hello.
My first visit from The Poetry Pantry.
There's something very sad about this poem, especially the ending.
You penned this very well.
Thanks for sharing.
Thief In The Night
very well expressed sadness, your metaphor is smart.
Hello.
Thanks for following my blog.
I always try to return the kindness & have become your newest follower too. Hope you'll return again soon.
Have a great day!
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