Her Secret
The pail light weaving through the shades.
Caressing her eye lids is the morning light.
Kissing her face as her slumber fades.
If only the peace could remain.
But each day brings it's weight.
Still toting this rusted chain.
Heavy are the memories that haunt.
Calloused hands pulling at the seems.
What else could they want.
Sacrifice is what we would call an understatement.
Fingers are just exposed bones.
Wheels never seen so many miles of pavement.
A perfect picture of resilience.
Quietly conjuring the room.
A speechless experience.
Copyright © John Goins | Year Posted 2022
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