Fin.

A Poem

Photo by Felix Mooneeram on Unsplash

The scent of my saviour
begins to escape,
Flowers wither in the corner,
disregarded.
Can I pray for time to stop or
to turn itself back?
I ask because the light left me
years ago.

Desperation claws it's way out
despite my embarrassment,
I need a shield to protect me
from my wavering hand.
How much longer can I hold
out on my own?
I begin to hear the end credits
rolling.

© Dylan Rose 2020. All Rights Reserved.