Tremble

Does it rush at you,
too quickly and sinister,
as if lying in wait for a wakening?
You had a fondness for a thing
ambered now,
in its beauteous fade.

What’s left for us,
after such withdrawal,
stewed, now, in the certainty of worry?
Chastened in the land of hurry.

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: