In Absence of Wonder
Mirrors reflects walls
Longing for smiles
Quill and scroll
Wait for a scribe
Candles flicker
While lovers bicker
The canvas sits blank
The unused paint dries
Mud puddles sit stagnant,
The children’s boots are clean
The adults say, “not today”
While tots stare vacantly at screens
History longs to tell us her tales
The future begs us to lift our veils
Songs wail for soulmates
With no tilted ears
Poetry sits on a page, unturned
Cozy, warm fires
Chill with fear
And passion no longer burns
The fragrance of a rose
No nose knows
The winding path
Is now obscure and overgrown
No longing for travel, or wonder
Or for our ultimate home
A tear in an eye
Refuses to fall
Pain no longer hurts
No desire for anything more –
When we are distracted by
Cheap imitations and dirt
2 thoughts on "In Absence of Wonder"
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That ending is so spot on, Carrie. That numbness in the absence of wonder. Well done.
History longs to tell us her tales
The future begs us to lift our veils – love this.
Yes, agree with Bill. The silence screams from your poem, and it is so sad to think of all those flowers not being appreciated!