A frail, pellucid, deformed, indistinct, cylindrical jar
towering above unkempt, blotchy, matte drawer
sits silently among empty, hollow bottles.
Inside hides the ashen remains
of your once iridescent, glistening soul,
I still remember how I carefully pour
after I watch you burn in whole.
—
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash
In response to dVerse‘s Quadrille #114 by Björn Rudberg (brudberg). Read his own jar-inspired poem titled Pickled Summer.
Also for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie‘s Wordle Special Addition Sight “August 15th, 2016”.
