top of page
  • Megan Neuman

Object poem

Moving On

The charred powder

gathered in a pile

of erased photographs.

Warm moments ignited

to be left cold,

still filled my lungs

with weight.

The black unforgiving dust

shifted in the wind.

As they took air,

remnants seemed

to call out my name

one last time.

The ashes soon faded away.

Along with the time we had together.

Recent Posts
Search By Tags
Follow Us
  • Facebook Basic Square
  • Twitter Basic Square
  • Google+ Basic Square
bottom of page