Morning light through
Shuttered blinds
Sitting hidden
Within obscurity.

Memories flickering
Like an 8mm film;
Handwritten notes
Creating mementos
Within a musty journal.

Ticks of the clock
Grow silent;
Eyes fixated on
The bottle of Wild Turkey.

Only the aroma remains.

Raising a toast,
With an empty glass,
Towards happiness
Recently snatched away.

Replaced with the burdens
Of a curse that remain
unexplained.

Published by David W. Jones

Writer. Artist. Sleepless Blogger. Wrestling junkie. Comic-Book Nerd. Every moment is a story View all posts by David W. Jones