The Place

The Place short poem

Photo by E Photos

Square box hidden in plain sight, square

with the head positioned just right; the place

of silence.

Lying flat, no movement,

with a stiffness of sort,

a rectangular figure, colorful,

long and sturdy.

Propped up with a stillness,

an energy to just be,

wide with calmness; there,

the place of silence.

Opened at an angle, handle,

upon handle, wood built, material

coated; a frame, a shell that’s hollow.

Peace or misery, quietness or agony,

contentment or worries; that place of silence;

death, you are there, because you have no breath.

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