Gone ~ A Poem

My name resounds in the empty room,

The sound, an echo on blank walls,

They call for me, they call to me—

Searching down these empty halls;

The bed waits cold in the empty room,

Where only darkness laid that night,

Eyes scanned the star-speckled skies—

But failed to spot one dying light;

Shadows pace in the empty room,

Waiting, hoping, for my return,

This life passes like a forest fire—

No one notices the last leaf burn;

Darkness retreats at the light of dawn.
They search for me—

 But I’m already gone. 
June 8, 2017

A. C. Mortale

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Free Spirit

Then, he moved as loose grains of sand do at the touch of the gentle breeze—gliding a short distance before stopping and then moving once again. His eyes were a shade of dull, lifeless grey that seemed both to mirror that of the dismal sky and to put it to shame with its own barely concealed gloom.

And yet, watching him with glassed over eyes, arms wrapped around myself in my own personal cage, I saw a free spirit.

A.C. Mortale