An empty seat


Wrapped in sun-kisses,

I bask by the sycamore;

The day you stopped by

I’d read it in your blue eyes;

Your skin had longed for me

But you shrugged it off;

The songs I sang once

Have bled in the autumn;

The leaves have swept away-

With the togetherness that we had.

The winds are no longer music

And they don’t weep with me anymore;

I still bask under the sycamore

Beside an empty seat-

Bearing an empty-ness within.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

© Varina Berryl Rasquinha,, 2015.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Varina Berryl Rasquinha and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

%d bloggers like this: