a stained glass window pane
of blue-pink forget-me-nots
and a cryptic dedication inside
a book only 11 people bought
some plastic-swaddled poetry
buried on a closet's top shelf
and a glowing snowflake that
is starting to lose its shine --
like little ghosts in a town of silver we flee
and abandon each other to a lifetime being chased
by memories that continually chomp away our paths
until we're left spinning in circles, no hands no heads no mouths
just words hanging in the air
we shouldn't have done that
2 comments:
But I like leaving them hanging in the air, buried on a shelf wrapped in plastic is no good.
Actually your third verse is a good stand alone piece Chris. I do not see a relationship between it and the first two. Explain it to me please.
the first two verses are the memories and things left behind by the people in the third verse.
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