And he stands there.
Waits.
Left
bereft.
Disbelieving his dream
his
nightmare; blinks
blinks…thinks.
Thinks!
No tears; dry. Too dry to try to
cry.
Scratchy; hoarse
as his heart; beats.
Beats!
Bleats.
Empty space.
Blank bed.
Gone; no more – no
sight to see - no
words…
to speak.
Quiet.
Tranquil.
LOUD.
DEAFENING!
Head-splitting.
And he stands there.
©pofacedpoetry (2018) Billy Reynard-Bowness – all rights reserved
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC
And he stands there.
Waits.
Left
bereft.
Disbelieving his dream
his
nightmare; blinks
blinks…thinks.
Thinks!
No tears; dry. Too dry to try to
cry.
Scratchy; hoarse
as his heart; beats.
Beats!
Bleats.
Empty space.
Blank bed.
Gone; no more – no
sight to see - no
words…
to speak.
Quiet.
Tranquil.
LOUD.
DEAFENING!
Head-splitting.
And he stands there.
©pofacedpoetry (2018) Billy Reynard-Bowness – all rights reserved
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