Friday, April 25, 2008

Unfinished Laundry

Every morning
The ceremony begins
Drops of your cologne
On my wrist.
Fingers tracing
Smiling photographs,
In your favorite
Flannel shirt
Gently cocooning.

Through closed eyes,
Again the vision unfolds,
Your things stirred
In a black cauldron
Amid the whispering
Of ancient incantations
Calling you back to me,
But it is just a dream.

In the corner, the basket
Your clothes, reality hits
The first sighs
Of the familiar Chant
Finds its way
To my lips

Why did you leave me?
Why did you leave me?
Why did you leave me?
And like foamy waves
Of an angry sea
I can not stop it.

I haven't finished your laundry...

copyright sherry obsheatz


wordcrafter said...

This is special, good of you to find it White Rose; there will be few who do not recognize such poignant memory as their own.

SunShine said...

It's interesting. I chuckled when I first saw this title. I thought it quite whimsical and went into the poem's door thinking that would be the theme. THEN it flows into a river of sadness and stirs emotions that I hadn't realized laundry could do. Most excellent!

mysticgmekeepr said...

What an absolutely lovely page!
You left me somewhat breathless with its beauty.