
(Photo: Noita Digital on Unsplash)
The swirl of white had gotten
In her eye.
Placed a tickle in her
Throat.
The door would close.
The chairs will sleep with bottoms
Against table
Tops.
There would be no more
Early morns.
No damp sponge
To erase all of yesterdays’
Chalk.
For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: chalk in 44 words
You must be logged in to post a comment.