Poem | ‘The remains’

How dim the light in the morning through the last brown leaves

And the look of the limbs curled inwards, slumped low

How soft the heater blows those long, solemn notes

Like the sound of a car scraping down an icy road, it goes

How the clock ticked, doling out scenes through my window pane

How little there was left, but how I longed for the remains



Categories: poetry, writing

Tags: , , , , , ,

8 replies

  1. Beautiful tone with wishful hope to be shared by all

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Lovely. First poem I’ve read here.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you Jadi! I have more, problem is it’s harder to feel like they’re really complete, compared to normal slice of life posts. So be it, thanks for popping by. Nice to see you every Monday! Bill

      Like

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