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When its rainining inside

A sad song and a chopped lemon
Lying gutted on the dusted table.
A dying candle drips out the only source of light,
Casting slanting shadows on the four walls
That contains everything she owns;
And her.
Sitting at a dusted table listening to her sad song
And dreading
That final drip of dying light,
That last drop of melting wax;
For then yet another day will have given up on her
And lay down in its bitter defeat.

When its rainining inside

EdelPankhurst

Co. Cork, Ireland

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