The Innocent Room
A chair sits still in quiet memory,
where laughter once would fill the day,
the sunlight paints a faded echo,
of moments stolen without cause.
A clock still ticks though time feels empty,
its rhythm bruised by hollow space,
the curtains breathe in gentle motion,
as though they sigh for what was lost.
No voice returns to break the silence,
no footsteps cross the wooden floor,
but love remains in fragile fragments,
soft traces left on walls and hearts.
The world may turn without its answers,
and justice sleeps in shallow graves,
yet hope will guard the innocent room,
until the final candle fades.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
Keep reading
More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Love Forboding
The chipped stone slope caused unbearable footing. I slid, skirting on my heels. I cast my shield, relinquishing my guard to stay upright. Left with my double-edge and a prayer to the maker, I skated toward my objective. The earthly stubble gave way to solid ground. I found myself restored, a trail of dust in my wake.
By James U. Rizzi5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Yes, wow. This is one way to keep memories hopefully good ones.
wow