Midnight Shadows
Matt’s mood matches the pitch black sky
and tightly nailed coffin,
disguised as his lifeless bedroom.
He sits up in bed and reflects
on last week’s employee of the year award.
The sweet scent of success
is now a dead but laughing skunk.
The rising crescendo of cheers
from his fellow co-workers,
have faded into that silent, fickle thing
called ‘time.’
If Matt could recapture time,
he’d spend less of it working overtime,
and more of it,
getting his blood pressure under control:
Now that he’s had a massive stroke.
Richard Sponaugle was born 4-20-60 in Maryland and raised in Northern Virginia. He received a BA from George Mason University. A prolific poet and songwriter, he has been published in many venues.
This is not a good end, closure being what it is, and all... Perhaps I should slow down.
ReplyDeleteOh, goodness! No, not a good ending at all............ perhaps that is a good warning for us to slow down and smell the roses and not trip over ourselves blindly....... S
ReplyDeleteHi Richard. I have enjoyed another well-written and sound poem from you. Thank you for sharing and continued blessings!
ReplyDelete-MJ (www.tgbtgpublictions.com)
great, startling ending! jolting the reality of life back into life.
ReplyDeleteInteresting piece, thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteWhat a glorious poem. I have enjoyed reading it this morning.
ReplyDeleteThank you, everyone, for your kind words on Rick's poem. I will send him your comments. Rick, your poem does give us a dose of reality. We often rush to fast until we use up the important times of life failing to set priorities. Thank you for continuing to share your talent here at Whispers.
ReplyDeleteBlessings,
Karen