Aftermath. A Poem by Guy Farmer

She sits in a comfortable room
Surrounded by trappings of
Carefully contrived gaiety.
A union of convenience
Slowly dissolving in a
Pricey crystal wine glass.
Memories untended;
Reality makes its presence known
In a million small ways.
The inescapable aftermath of an
Impulsive, ill-conceived
Party thrown by teenagers when
Parents are away.
If she closes her eyes for a
Moment she remembers the
One who really matters.




Poems and Poetry blog, poems the property of their authors, all rights reserved.
Submit a poem.
This entry was posted in Loss, Poems, Poetry, Relationships and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

Current day month ye@r *