The Tomb.

Memories spiral down

the tunnel of time's infinity

from the grave of a broken heart.

How the paper cries,

the pen  -sad eyes;

drawn on thoughts

that can't raise the head,

bent over a shattered dream.

Yellow are the pages,

the looking glass broken,

fading ink echoes

a ceremony and sacrifice

where the cloak

of sacrillicious intentions disrobes

escaping its envelope,

the seal  broken;

encasing the death

of a dream entombed.

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

"The Tomb" reminds us that some of the best poems rise from the darkest places, Andrew. From the depths of heartbreak's buried piece comes life to the poet and novelist. While we find a heaviness and darkness in this poem, we might also find light in the escape. Well written, sir.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i can hear the dream crying out from the tomb...please, come and save me...make me alive again, make me happen...
put me back together.
j.

[andrew mitchell]

Thanks J for your words just something different.