THE TORMENTS OF BEING READ TO

Into the memory
of a septuagenarian,
your epistolary voice tiptoes
along legendary halls
that are long hushed
by crickets and cobwebs.
When no one speaks
to this squeaky floor anymore,
your cautious footfalls
can hurt so much.
Every time when darkness falls,
you resemble the sound
silence makes.

© Gheeneil

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: