Repose


A lonesome wanderer,
Weary of life,
What is the redemption from this strife?

The empty walls narrow down on me.
There is light at the end of the tunnel,
One which I cannot see.

Silence echoes in my head,
As I lie
Tossing and turning on my bed.

There is a world
Beyond the void,
One which I seem to avoid.

Time heals
The joys and sorrows, the memory of pain.
How I wish there is an end to this disdain!

The wind blows
Through the creeks of the wooden house.
It breaks the silence, the lights douse.

In that obscure hour,
My eyes close.
Another day, another repose.




Image Source:1

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In search of a peacock feather

A strange beckoning