.
‘
‘
‘
I don’t what happened. Last time we wandered along the shore she was skipping, running, jumping.
The laughter we shared still rings in my ears. Usually she is frivolous, seeming never to have a serious thought in her head.
Unrefined at times too, but those unexpected bursts are what make her endearing, funny, even more amicable.
Today the beach is the same, the sea is the same. Only she is different.
‘
.
She sits and stares
Unocused eyes swimming to the horizon
gazing into infinity
No sign of tears
Her expressionless face an empty canvas
a sea of pallor
I look into her eyes
I see nothing but a swirling mist of grey
that sparkle gone
I ask her why
A cloud of despair envelopes her
She hears me not
I will wait
I’ll stay by her side as long as it takes
for her to return
But for now
she inhabits a sorrowful place of her own
Somewhere
I know not where.
.
© Ayr/Gray
.
Thanks to Jenne Gray and CEAyr for hosting The Unicorn Challenge
So sad. I hope she returns.
Me too.Thanks, Tessa.
Oh Keith, this is tragic. I wonder what happened.
Guess we’ll never know, Di.
This was the soundtrack for helplessness. Both of them. What a sad sorrowful place to be. You caught the feeling perfectly.
Thank you for your generous words, Violet.
Sometimes, my friend, you surpass yourself.
The story is excellent, the poem better.
I can’t thank you enough, C.E. Poetry is not really my thing, so I’m pleased you found it okay!
This is so beautiful and so sad, Keith.
But infused with hope too.
Just perfect.
Thanks so much, Jenne, I’m pleased that came across.
Sometimes we get lost, if we are blessed, later we get found.
So true. Thanks, Mimi.
Lovely words with that feeling of sadness when people change. Especially hard when you cannot reach them.
Thank you so much, I imagine in must be.
This is such a heartbreaking story
I’m pleased it had the desired effect, thank you, Sadje
Caro mio, you are a poet. This was masterful.
I always describe myself as a reluctant poet! It’s not a form of writing I’m keen on which make your kind words seem all the more special. Thank you so much, Nancy.
Prego! Mi piacere, caro Keith. I have often called myself a pseudo poet so I know where you’re coming from.
simply executed, both
as befitting solitary grief
That’s most kind of you, Clark, thank you.