Empty Days

Published by The Poetess on

Days running like an empty sheet of paper – uninked. An unlived hours of living – as dry as the desert.

Nothing to feel; not famished or parched.

This days when there’s no memory to remember.

Nothing but an empty well. A song without a tune – mute as this. 

Nothing but silence. 


The Poetess

Erratic. Playful. Poetic.

Leave a Reply

Please Login to comment
  Subscribe  
Notify of