Dust motes

Closed window blinds hide her form from view,

Though a sliver of sunlight spies its way through

Dust motes.

It doesn’t matter.

Paper scratched, life-weary words flutter about,

Then fall away.

Her silent silhouette slumps,

Disappears.

Her heart’s voice breaks,

But no one hears.

44 words for this week’s dVerse Poets quadrille challenge: voice

8 thoughts on “Dust motes

  1. This speaks so loudly of the silence of too many… make me think of Eleanor Rigby…

    Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice
    In the church where a wedding has been
    Lives in a dream
    Waits at the window, wearing the face
    That she keeps in a jar by the door
    Who is it for

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