Cry of Pain
Dear Life, please nourish me today
On an aching morn tired and tedious,
soften my wind with scents of vanilla tea
and baked pages from a magazine's tray.
The cloud too near molds a destitute
face. A mirror of darkened, twisted hair
and wrinkled brows veil my skin
much older than the kitchen chair.
Wasting time on a lease without solace
in blowing circles of morning breeze
that cannot hear the raging wire
and chimes in my head. A trembling wail
crushes a broken bell like a snake's tenor.
Say something, speak to me upon this nail---
The one I love doesn't answer or reply
Vanilla tea melts my tears in pained cry.
11 March 2016
Contest: Lament, Casarah Nance
Copyright © Norma Arana | Year Posted 2016
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