The Road

Hardly a flitter in the elaborate sky, as a 'once upon' tale

falls silent behind yesterday’s now slivered moon. 

Nothing warm to stir or satiate; nothing left but cold compromise. 

The wooden echo of an empty cupboard pales

in comparison to the white noise of a lost road.

Somewhere is the sun of a tomorrow that never comes, 

gracing the blades of an exotic grass like the honey of summer bees. 

Somewhere is the memory of what love used to be, tickling your skin 

like the brush of warm ocean sand, lost on the darkening horizon.

Only the moon behind an ashen sky, peeking through shades of dirty red 

like an old, gauze-wrapped wound. And you, beneath this disappearing sea, 

with only the sound of your footsteps on the ever-wintering mountains; 

a deafening trample of what once existed. And you mind your only direction, 

to go where man-made paths inevitably lead.

Reviews

[hanir]

I feel you. Probably because I once travelled this road (or still traveling ☺).. "Somewhere is the sun of a tomorrow that never comes, 
gracing the blades of an exotic grass like the honey of summer bees. 
Somewhere is the memory of what love used to be.."
Well written! 😊

[Catherine Ann Sulskis]

Thank you! Yes, we're all travelers, in some form. :)

[hanir]

Right! 😊
You're welcome.
Keep traveling.. keep writing!

[Misery]

I had to read this one twice before the words pushed past my eyes and made it to my soul. Perhaps I am amiss, but I love the sorrow in this poem. The loss, the resignation, the resolution all whisper to my soul...and I do love the whispers of sorrow. Thank you for sharing this creation, dear poet.

[Catherine Ann Sulskis]

Yes, it does have the echo of sorrow, for what was and what will be. I appreciate your taking the time to dive into it. Thank you for the comment!