Weary Afternoon
Jan 2, 2022
Glass drenched from the
water rings on the table.
The stereo has no soul,
it’s just strings with tone
leaving hope all alone,
screaming internally,
loving silently with
no place to go,
just an instrumental voice
with a hole to echo
the feelings of being lonely.
As an organ for serenading
without a heart to queue the notes.
