The Remains of the Day

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There lies the remains of the day stiff and clammy cold, in rigor mortis. Did it die of its own accord? Is the killer still at large? Did it die accidentally when no one cared? What were you and I doing at the time? Do we have an alibi that will stand up in court? What motive could we have for killing this day. Does anyone believe that you or I did it? The long shadows are like fingerprints and DNA that you can trace back to who done it. The setting sun highlights the blood splatters in red stains and blotches which we cannot erase. There are footprints and traces we've left everywhere. Why did this day have to die so soon? When we have so few left to harpoon.

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Jan Allison

Date: 10/13/2024 4:10:00 PM

the title pulled me in John as its a film I love with Sir Anthony Hopkins in it, however your poem is dark deep and sad on so many levels, made me think of a whale but it could be a human too - I particularly love this part - so so descriptive John "The long shadows are like fingerprints and DNA that you can trace back to who done it." hugs Jan xx

John Anderson
Date: 10/13/2024 6:50:00 PM

Thanks very much for your comments and kind thoughts. Cheers and Best Wishes