The
Writer's Voice
The World's Favourite Literary Website
Road
of Sighs
By
Rusty
Broadspear
She was visiting deep sleep
Bags packed the day before
She smiled, dreamily.
Excitement and sadness
Raced through my veins.
My dented pillow was dark,
Her hair was lit,
By a blade of moonlight.
I took in her warmth,
Remembering days past,
Some good, some bad,
Always knowing
They wouldn't last.
An impossible task,
To silently close the door,
Whilst thinking goodbye.
Son's door wide open,
His young life
Strewn across the floor,
Long gone to uni,
Who could want for more.
Other son's door closed,
Closed people,
Closed minds,
Springs to mind,
But he's good you'll find.
Cold air claws,
I look back at the house
Of our dreams,
And it seems
Like I've been snatched
Reborn, rehatched.
The car waits so coldly,
Early morning frost
Melt the headlights,
But I walk boldly
And the key doesn't turn,
At first, but then it does.
Familiar roads in the rearview
And unsaid goodbyes,
And then the road ahead,
The road of sighs.
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work