Club9nine
Self Casket
Bells toll low in the weeping rain,
shadows lean in the chapel's frame.
Lilies choke on the scent of decay,
whispers curl where the mourners pray.
Eyes avert, yet all have seen,
the trembling hands, the spaces between.
Some doors open, and none return,
some candles drip, yet never burn.
In the hush, a truth takes shape,
wrapped in silk no soul can escape.
And in that silence, deep and vast,
a farewell is given... that should never last.
For #WITWcontest.