Unearthed remains of metaphors, a braille of past,
with care and glue, we stitched together shards of us;
repaired what’s broken with apologies; to maybe last
another day, or ‘till death us part, dismissing fuss.
Did we sweep the floors, or defuse explosives?
Did we listen for the blackbird or obey the crows?
Are we ready to be finished? Are we thus conclusive?
Meandering by Styx, we hesitate while Charon rows.
Cause every argument and every sin unpardoned brings
us closer to a parting, to the place where sirens sing(e).
Today it’s Open link at dVerse and Gayle hosts. Bring and poem and join the fun at 9 PM CET.
October 19, 2016