Poetry, Reflections

Dry Tears


Solitary she still remains,
Wandering forth amidst perilous gains,
Shrouded in a cloak of fury,
A corpse none wanting to bury…

Clockwork of subsistence it was,
Brief moments of a recaptured past,
She stands today a trifle dour,
Awaken from a dream she was,

Memories of a past without a name,
Pictures dance outside of their frame,
Laughter, tears and joys abound,
Tranquility amidst a deafening sound,
A hand that she longs to hold,
Warmth in this bitter cold,
Says the woman solitary still,
Memories she wishes to relive.

And yet she finds with grimness,
Severance in the world’s abyss,
Familiar maybe is this solitude,
Forgotten maybe her existence yet,
A sad tear trickles down,
A muffled prayer she shrieks out.

Unheard are her soundless prayers,
Invisible are her dried up tears,
The hand she seeks has been long withdrawn,
Forgotten alas will be this forlorn song…

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