The Old Abandoned Well
Her baby fine hair sheenes as gold as the wedding band she dumped down the old abandoned well.
Her porcelain skin bares scars from the shards of broken promises.
Abuse still shadows the hollows of her pale blue eyes.
She caresses the tiny bump in her belly.
The innocence nestled there was the courage she needed.
Vindication looms in the bluish purple boot print stamped just above it.
Her ability lay spent in brass on the bedroom floor.
The sun beaming through the windows seems brighter, the air lighter today.
A long forgotten calm washes over her, awakening a peace that has lain dormant in her soul.
Out in the field, centered between the tracts of the old tractor, evil has left it's final mark on this world.
The trail, just a man's shoulder width has already begun to fade.
She removes her wedding band, a haunting symbol of the past three years of hell.
His is tightening on his bloating finger, at the bottom of the old abandoned well.
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment