I stared at the scarred dinner table, dark mahogany chipped,
The straight backed chair confirming my inability to relax
The stale cigarette smoke burning my nose
As you murmured I can't believe she's gone into the empty space-
I sipped the tea that had grown cold and bitter.
About the Creator
Katrina Thornley
Rhode Island based author and poetess with a love for nature and the written word. Works currently available include Arcadians: Lullaby in Nature, Arcadians: Wooden Mystics, 26 Brentwood Avenue & Other Tales, and Kings of Millburrow.
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More stories from Katrina Thornley and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Failed Artist, A Disillusioned Poet, An Underpaid Game Show Host
I took my son and niece to Gori, a small town in Georgia where Joseph Stalin was born. They talked me into visiting the Stalin's Museum, the largest in the post-Soviet space. I had resisted going there because I just can't stand the monster and know enough about him, or so I thought.
By Lana V Lynx7 days ago in FYI
Comments (2)
Such a vivid sensory poem. I could nearly taste the emotion is wreaked of.
A great sensory poem!