Lost

She always stares into the distance
as if troubled by some worry the time long
trudged over.

Always cradling her bloated stomach
as if her womb is bearing a child and letting it
grow.

Always whispering a slight melody like a
hummingbird hoping for winter to come
just a bit later this year.

I don't see her at night. Her windows boarded shut
so no moonlight can protrude and I'm sure
that she's sleeping.

I'll see her in the morning though. Messy haired
and dull eyed, cradling her tummy with calloused
hands repeatedly.

Humming to herself from her bloated red lips
a depressing nursery rhyme or the ballad of the lost,
envious of the new-born sun.

Reviews

[Meghan]

Very powerful images, and I like the questions this piece raises. Well done! I really enjoyed this.

[Suditi]

Deep and powerful.
Wow.
Great write.

[closed..acct]

Wow such depth and sadness in this.
You did an outstanding piece right here,
i can feel the meotions ripple through
awesome writing....

[R J Askew]

Ach, the great sadness that is life. How did she end like that we wonder? And why is it like this for us all one way or another as we grow older and our dreams turn into very different realities. And even for those lucky enough to succeed in their earlier years what awaits them, us, all of us?! Even the sun will one day ...

[Katarzyna Slade]

yes i agree with the comment below i do think you should replace "protrude" to "intrude" ... but altogether a great write :) x

[screamin'ian]

Ouch. Almost got to thinking about death in this one. If I might suggest "intrude" instead of "protrude" for the moonlight?
Dreary yet sharp images,
I enjoyed it.

Wow, this is amazing! Nice write! I love it!