A Quick Finale Poem by Lydia Martin

A Quick Finale



Shaft of rain.
Split instant wept.
Crash of tears.
Lies alone,
Unswept.

Echo of stain.
Torn now bereft.
Match of spears.
Secret, sly,
Unkept.

Alone again.
Veer high and left.
Endless years.
Knife’s true line
Is deft.

Lydia Martin
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
poem poems alone torn
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