Loss

Eyes gaze

at a Meissen

cup and saucer,

white like the

exquisite Flemish

lace covering the

polished teak table

where fingers drum

on a dusty

book cover:

inside

on yellowing pages

words crumble

like dried bones,

and the eyes

that once sought

after them

for meaning,

now gaze

immobile,

detached,

at someone’s fingers

drumming on a

dusty book cover

drumming their

own retreat

from a philosophy

that long ago

faded

and longer ago

was forgotten,

left

discarded

on the polished

teak table

covered by

exquisite Flemish lace,

white

like a  Meissen

saucer

and..

3 thoughts on “Loss

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