I can hear his muffled voice
Although I can't hear him speak,
I can see the blackness of the night
Still, I can't see what I seek.
I can taste the suffocating bleakness
But I can't taste these silent teardrops,
I can smell the emptiness in the air
And lately, I can't smell more than that.
I can feel his lingering presence
Yet, I can't feel that it'll be the last.
YOU ARE READING
Summer Sands
PoetrySummer The days are longer The night skies Draped in stars, Shimmering pearls in the ocean; While the seagulls soar Above the ever, turning tides.
