Preludes to Vacant Spaces

I
The night arrives on schedule
breaking clasped memories
of you wrapped in cotton sheets,
lying upon the bed in waiting;
reveries with stars revealing
as candles winked in stillness.
Scent of you lingers on pillows
that should’ve made a new home.

II
Landscape of death’s domain
is a masquerade of vacant spaces
as evening smothers days.
Trampled under weighted thoughts
like grass beneath the beaten path;
eight o’clock eats from soiled hands
and introspection slides to the edge.
Time recommences ignoble images.

III
Daylight burns through coal shutters
as windows open in a brisk manner,
shoving tired eyes to warm showers
with reminders of a long night.
Noisy voices pierce office doors,
as feet move slowly in arduous paces
and few faces look up with a smile.

Copyright © 2018 – Brian Nettles. All Rights Reserved

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