Hullo, friends! My schedule has been a little off the past couple of weeks, but I’m back again today with your regularly scheduled Tuesday post! If you missed it, around a week ago I posted about Twinepathy‘s birthday and the cover reveal sign-ups for IDIA #3, so if you’re interested in participating in that, definitely check out that post (or just fill out the form here). Today’s poem is more of a sad one–another one that I wrote for class. Hope you enjoy! (Also, there’s an important question at the end of this post, so make sure and comment your thoughts!)
The Sun
C.B. Cook
The sun rose that morning,
a day like any other,
but it didn’t rise for her.
She poured her coffee in the kitchen.
Warm golden light enveloped her,
but she moved to the bedroom,
shunning the warmth.
The bedroom was dark,
lonely.
She embraced it because
it matched the heavy,
shadowy grief
weighing on her soul.
She flipped a switch
and the light buzzed overhead.
There was his bed,
his desk,
the stack of video games
his father had given him
instead of visiting.
She traced the squares of the quilt on the bed,
finally letting the tears fall.
The sun rose that morning,
but her son didn’t rise with it.
What did you think of that poem? And for the important question I mentioned earlier: if I put out a poetry collection, would you be interested in reading it? Comment below with your thoughts!
The World Of The Writer 