You'd think the albums of dust
got thrown out with cigarette ash
scattered mindfully, reverently
under elm trees
on emerald lakes
between calendars
in absolute awe
You'd think the colour of flames
burnt out without leaking a sound
melting slowly, surreptitiously
like a prodigal tear
as an unsubstantiated fear
far from crystals of seers
You'd think reason will prevail
victorious in the realm of the righteous,
oblivious to
raging red veins in embers
still carrying the contagion
of impaled promises
Mindfills© 2023 for
Sammi Cox’s weekend writing prompt ~ absolute (80 words)
Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie 