The Passing
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Valerie Dohren
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The air, thick with pregnant anticipation -
somewhere, far away, a clock ticks
louder than before
Whispers permeate the room -
chairs filled, yet empty - empty of hope,
now lost
Then, quietly, silently, a dove is born -
unfurling it's wings it exits the room
through a slightly cracked window
Tapping the glass before
flying into the distance -
higher and higher it soars
The room is still now -
all that can be heard is
weeping, weeping ………
©️24/8/2024 Valerie Dohren
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