the empty city

it’s hard, sometimes, remembering
within the empty city;
i think, once, there were people here
and there was some committee

that you and i belonged to when
there was a you and i;
where we decided how to raise our kids;
which lullaby

we’d sing at night to calm them or
to ease their childhood fear:
but now i can’t remember, and can’t ask –

there’s no one


Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “the empty city”

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