It feels strange
In here
The cleanness
The freshly swept floor
The single
Remaining bag
Everything
That strange feeling
Touched something
Deep down
In that hidden place
A memory surfaces
Empty rooms
Stacked boxes
A single car remaining
One last goodbye
I shake my jead
Forcing myself
Back to the present
Brushing away a few tears
Turning away
We walk off
For one last round
YOU ARE READING
Peotry of the Mind
PoetryThese are a collection of poems I have assembled over the years. They are your thoughts put on paper.
