Dead

A waterfall I hear

And search out the sound

It's roar surrounds me amide the water's spray

Unprepared photos I take

Phone's batteries are low

So I go . . .

Down wooden stairs I trod

Stepping back into the past

Deeper and deeper into the dark

Of mother's own heart

It beats with rhythm strong

Urging me to move along

Finally the base I reach

Finding figures bending down

Hands move to and fro a treasure to caress

Gazing in lamp lit dust

I feel I must

Photos take of ancient moving of dust

Only to find my phone melted down

Hinge askew

And screen dead.

Reviews

[Laughing-Bear]

My Dear Writing Friend,
I liked this word tapestry. And yes it is a tapestry as you well written work placed a visual in my spirit. When I reached the end of this write my thought was you still got your picture, it was burned into you memory. It was so well preserved you were able to share it with me this morning.

Blessings, Laughing-Bear

[Norma M Sutton]

Thank you :) This was from a dream I awoke from. Sometimes dreams lead us on a strange journey :)

[SHEEMA HUQ]

What I find particularly about this poem is that it is partially visual, convoluted, and abstract like a real dream, though the emotional content, the sensations are apparent, I felt very convinced, well done