Ruins
The walls of my world are numb to touch.
Split with longing, they stand alone,
the only light inside, my own.
That burning flame that lit my youth
reduced to ashes, has left a gap
to which this poem is a map.
For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 581 prompt words are: walls world numb touch spilt longing own burning flame gap light ashes. Image of burned house by Hans Isaacson on Unsplash.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Very poignant. The last line is brilliant.
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;o). Thanks, Dolly!!!
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The pleasure is mine, Judy
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Pingback: Avant Garde | lifelessons – a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown
Goodness — with all those prompt words, the poem almost wrote itself!
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I know.
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Whoa….
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I take it you want me to stop???? ;o)
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Don’t stop. That was a “Whoa…” of amazement
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I know. Just can’t resist a kidding…
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Such an evocative poem Judy.
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Thanks, Sadje. Sometimes even I have to question whether a poem is fact or fiction. A bit of each I imagine.
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Compelling!
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MineHERE
HAPPY SUNDAY
muchđŸ’œlove
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