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

David is a writer and blogger who enjoys creating literary expressions about everyday life. He is a published poet and currently doing reviews, creative writing, and storytelling. David's interests include narrating point-of-view scenarios, documenting non-fiction, and writing scripts for film and television. View all posts by David W. Jones