A bough lays on the path

A bough lays on the path,
Crisscrossed and broken.
A tear lost beneath my foot -
Where you beneath the apple-tree
Cried and spoke,
A word of warning.
Teacups shattered on our kitchen floor,
A black cat passed by our roses,
Now wilted from summer days left unspoken.

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

The sublime words of memory and images that tell tomes.