This room was once alive
with colour and chatter.
Now bare, it is silent -
the sea licks at piles of bags
packed with our lives.
We will carry these things
to the bay tomorrow
where the boats will wait.
The furniture will stay -
stuffed with our memories
to become reefs
where fish will gather -
moving their silent mouths
endlessly.
Previously published on The Bijou Poetry Review.
2 comments:
Very nice. Reef well alone.
Lovely poem. It could have been written about a couple of places along our coast.
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