Empty Larder

by Stephen Watson

Her larder of love is bare; the fuel for
her life's journey squandered on so few;
those plankton from the lonely ocean.

The spirit withers without
sustenance, as the red rose;
devoid of life's liquid saviour.

By degrees it decays, until only
the smallest crumbs of love's rich
banquet remain on memory's table.

18-Nov-2012

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