I fade with my words

I fade with my words
heard them coming, but the rush
tear the contour

The bang behind the doors
Louder than a wooden tree fell
by the cricket’s pinch

Lamp stumble at the table’s end
with the venomic shake of the floor

Fire burn the papers blue
With the ink escaping through
the prisoner’s roof

The flames, echoes endless thoughts
With my mind in the mid floor

tap of collapsed walls
Ashes of who could have loved

I fade with my words
As I couldn’t find the voice
In the burnt day that it did come

MO.

Image courtesy: favim.com

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About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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