Traces prose poem

The forensic experts came this morning
With their dusters, blades and little poly bags
They searched what was left of his heart
And found traces of sympathy
Carelessly scattered around its chambers
By the sweet maid
Who made his bed every morning

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

1 Comment on "Traces"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Editorial Board

Enigmatic words @Jasper_Daniel that raise so many questions in the mind and with such few words used too!