Weird Emily

Sat in the corner of her dark, disturbed room
Hiding from the careless lackadais
of the outside worldly folk
The thoughtless gesture, the idle look
The conversations that glanced across the heart
like a bullet

By a candle’s dim flicker
She soothed the wounds, took
restitution in the solace of a word
Found majesty in a syllable
Tuned an ear to the rhythms
of the heart

And from the stillness of the shadows
Plucked brilliant shafts of reverberating
light.

by Laurence Overmire

Comments (1)

Oh! but I really love this poem. Poignant and compassionate-and so well crafted. Simply beautiful, Laurence. Thanks. Sandra