My World

copyright  Michael King


A hint of a smile released the question in her eyes,

blossomed into a spring bouquet and then retreated.

The message brutal and final no careful delivery here.

Any attempt at a recovery now completely defeated.

Encouraged by grief a blank canvas fell into place.

The bouquet withered into weeds. The smile faded.

Deflated without arrangement or hope for a recovery

She walks slowly away. Her dreams now downgraded.

The half turned over the shoulder deflating glance.

A single tear flirting towards the down turned smile

catches the fading sunlight rejected by her eyes.

As the last unspoken question lingers a brief while.

Dark clouds drift across the face of the fading moon

as fast fingers the clock face and stops at midnight.

The chimes summoning up the ghosts of yesteryear

deliver a corrupted cord avoiding truths chilling insight.

Now stands the test to seek a safe space for recovery.

To roam a fresh field of new hopes and golden blooms.

To cherish love and nurture its full joy and verdant beauty.

No longer left to haunt life's lonely, echoing, vacant rooms.