A Trio

- poems of eight lines with no abstract nouns


The chair on which he sat
An empty place with space around
The road that he once trod
Forgotten now. And then I found
The letter that he wrote
His tender words adorn the page
But not for me, alas.
For now, I'll sit. And then I’ll rage.



From the grey sky a bird’s shrill cry
echoes across the moor.
The air is cold and thunder rolls,
and creatures cuddle in their holes.
Soon rain will come -
the lightning crash,
as rooms grow dim.
And I am still. With him.



Ice crackles. I walk, crunching on the snow
as dim-lit sky sits blank around.
Feet steady, nothing here to give me pause
I speed apace, fast-crossing frozen ground.
The world is white and still,
but will not be for long.
The light will come again -
but I? I will be gone.

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