The Oven

 

 

Down in the rain soaked day

Stained faces stare at the stone cold grey

Better to be bitter in a torn umbrella

As birds flock against the cloud

She loved more than she needed

She waited too long and never succeeded

Cats cry out for her return

And the wolves howl against the wind

The darkness swallows the light

Then, out of the mind

Comes forward a bleary eyed vision

A dead deer on a swollen road

And all the cars pass now

They all drive by and no one stops to see

The tear that rolls down the cheek of her life

Drop to the floor

Dr. Horder; dinner is served

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This entry was posted in Poetry.

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