Closure
I sit and strum
minor chords
on my guitar tonight
and mourn yet another figment
of my imagination
how I breathed life into this one
nurtured it
and watched it grow
like my own child
and now?
I'd bury it
if I could --
if there was a body ...
if there was only
a body
it's tough to get closure
from these sad strings
from mere vibrations
from the vanishing echo
of a hollow wooden box
but it'll have to do
The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.