A story.

Tuesday


The slow drip of the tap, 
the quiet tick of the clock,
each little sound reminding her 
of her aloneness.
Of what she has lost.

What she gave up.

2 comments:

Martin H. said...

I can hear that clock, ticking, and adding up all that has slipped away from her.

nancy said...

Ohhhhhhhh. This felt all too familiar. great image. xo