Angels On Mute

Welcome loneliness my old friend,

to mark the hours emptiness sends

 

In the middle of the cold and dark,

the vanishing call of a last meadowlark

 

leaving me stranded,

deep in the well

 

Counting the minutes where time has conspired,

lusting for something whose clock has expired

 

This silence a chorus of Angels on mute,

promising nothing, all vows to refute

 

left and abandoned

—deserted in hell

 

 (Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2020)

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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