Poem, Scenic, Short story

Without voice.

Much survives in a way,

Buried in layers of hungry sand.

And only now and then might wind and wave reveal things long ago forgotten.

But in the midst of nought,

Where deserts have consumed all,

Far enough below a past defiantly whispers “I am still here”.

A prompt response.

5 thoughts on “Without voice.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s