The plywood panes are testament
to how her final days were spent
withdrawn from all but her best friend
the spiteful spirit discontent;
but truthfully, did we extend
accepting arms, or did we send
the promise of discouragement
from rigid limbs too scarred to bend?
Each day the dwelling cries – REPENT!
and fuels this lachrymose lament
I fear will haunt me till the end—
the plywood panes are testament.
Are You Reading Me?
The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind!
ReplyDeleteSorry, I'm currently obsessed again with the London cast.
I liked the poem, though.
I don't know which use is more powerful... the noun or the verb but they both serve to get your point across.
ReplyDeletethanks Noah, you may be right ;)
ReplyDeletehi Shirley, good that was my intention