What Portent?

I left your notes in tatters….

Pieces. Scattered. No matter.

I never saw the full scope,

But a single shard? Shattered.

Those pieces hide, all nearby.

Calling a thought, whispered cry…

Stifled. Piled. Hidden, I hope,

Those words… intent undefined.

A plastic bag? Iron vault.

The remainder of your thoughts?

Hanging. The end of my rope,

Wait. What portent have you brought?

© CGT, 2017.

Talk to me.