Empty Shoes
empty shoes
sleep in my father’s closet
his voice haunts me at night
when your back is turned
death sneaks up
the soul thief
collecting thorns from crowns
of pink flowers blossoms
filling killing fields
of frozen fruit trees
with regrets
and
memories
babies
begin
the cycle
again
in the long cold
winter
between
the silences
Copyright © David Lee | Year Posted 2018
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