An Ill Wind

Leaving for the last time,
in the black of night.
An ill wind cutting through
the 1964 Ford truck I called home.
Dust of the past unable to settle,
a sign of the treachery that
left my heart and home broken.

Wrapped in silk sheets,
she has the honey,
he has my family.
I’m left with only a hunger,
And a few pictures in books.


Written for Wordle #538 at The Sunday Whirl
Words utilized: books / honey / leaving / hunger / broken / sign / silk / black / wind / dust / family / truck

Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.

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