The Missing Card Poem by Vidi Wija

The Missing Card



the Jack has drawn to play
the shouting voice away
when the clock sounds to say
nothing is here this way

gold Miners close the door
of chamber of honour
inside here waiting for
the spark light of colour

sitting down hand hiding
vibrant red goes losing
becoming pale stunning
fast the leaves down falling

gelid and hard to crunch
leaving the heart to scratch
hard pain and hurt that bunch
till dying comes to catch

Jack’s torn into pieces
Joker who kills the rests
mimics without faces
there were door-knocker guests

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Vidi Wija

Vidi Wija

Jambi, Indonesia
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