Categories
Poetry

Bereft

It began with a moan.

Not the type

You’d hear from

Someone all alone.

It wasn’t from pleasure, that was clear.

But I heard it again

And knew

That the source must be near.

I walked the top floor

And found them

Slumped in the dark,

Across from the door.

A couple, tangled and sad,

Whispering stories

Of times gone by,

Before the world went mad.

© 2021 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

By jebrownwriter

Houston, TX-based Writer and Photographer. Proud pet rescuer who spends nearly all his money on them.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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