Last Rites

Last Rites short poem

Photo by shandysnaps


Time purees
And missing you
No longer holds a shape

“No Vacancies”
Screams the sign
No room at the inn
Another place, then
Another town

Your scent, your voice
Their colours fading slow
Softly slip their moorings
And are lost in the wind

The last outpost
The far-flung reaches
Where nothing echoes
And even your name
Melts in my mouth

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Doug MacGowan

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My name is Doug MacGowan and I’m a 53 year-old English guitarist, ex-professional actor. I’ve been writing poetry in one form or another for most of my life, although have never submitted anything for consideration until now. This is an excellent way for like-minded souls to share and discuss their love of poetry and all else besides. Best wishes to one and all.
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