THE EDGE
The door slams
making clear
For the first time
someone so dear
Has gone for the last time
Like a brooding fog
silence hangs in the air
Memories whirl
while at the door you stare
The distance between
then and now is so small
Standing at the edge
listening to the past call
The closed door
will become
and ending and beginning
tomorrow
But now I am in this netherworld
of change and sorrow
This poem speaks to the reader invoking memories of those miniscule moments between "then and now" touchstone moments. It makes me want to reflect and write. Thanks for sharing!
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