Last Chamber Empty

Illusion to who
or better to whom
the window opens shut
An image ingrained
 often betrays
a rose that’s long been plucked
The sun in the moonlight
darkness to burn
a promise made to none
Glory unproud
 its victory profane
—the truth an empty gun

(The New Room: April, 2021)
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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