A Twenty Minutes poem.
More Than Abandoned
The moon, the dark sky, the cold
the tree branches that shift and clatter
the sweep of car lights on the dark road
turning into the drive and switching off.
The hard sharp sound of leather heels
on the sidewalk. It may be that
everything is finished all done
the window that glowed with light
now covered with thick drapes and so
no one knows if anyone is ever at home there
or if the key will fit in the door
The plants in their pots on the porch are frozen dead
and no one has bothered to take them away.
It’s not a good sign.