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Avryl
A door sways slowly open as
wide eyes pivot towards an opaque window,
where layers of blistered paint
chipped and faded, fall where they may
on uneven planked flooring.
Year after year, colour after colour,
simply poured one on top of each other
adding to the ambiance,
depicting a speckled rainbow effect
among the dead flies
and God knows what else.
Neglect was Avryl's life
The yellowed curtains, grimy with stale nicotine
and blankets of dust
Hung precariously off to one side,
as if innocently beckoning those outside his realm
to take a peek in, but beware what you may find.
How many times had others come here to help him?
Only to stamp away in disgust at his
lack of desire for anything orderly and clean,
promising never to return.
Yet they did, time and time again
Time passed and now he is gone
All that remains is the emptiness inside
and the dirt
which no longer carries
any significance;
remains
Author
Beverly Schmeler
July 2002 |
