Yesterday’s Woman
Poem
Poem
The morning comes and she deals with another day,
succumbing to the fear of this cold life.
What once was of the woman whose presence I miss,
now merely a sweet carnival memory of a childhood summer,
like the red rose on a frosty winter's night.
I never knew words could leave scars so deep,
When did black and white become grey?
When did the birds fall still, silent in their shroud?
Those shards of splintered ice strike to the core
and despite all the tears, no one will cry.