Tuesday, February 5, 2019


© 2019 Steve King
All rights reserved

So now I am that widow guy,
pressed in these thoughts like widow’s weeds,
come near to end of time, it seems;
so near to end of days, must seem to all.

There are yet days.
Time is not stilled,
nor are the dreams undone,
to hang like heavy husks
across the fallen backdrop
of an endless, empty night,
a million miles to see.

And memory,
a pretty picture now,
but strange, imperfect, an unfinished thought,
where every echo plays
without its grounding harmony,
songs of siren sorcery,
promise unfulfilled,
and choruses of silence
that linger, stranger still.

A new poem for Open Link Night at


  1. Such emptiness and silence that linger and echoes on an endless night.

  2. What a stark image you show with a life "endless, empty night"... this is so filled with a fear of beginning once again.

  3. There is deep loss and a feeling of uneasiness in what may come. I find hope in these lines, the memories are what keep one going and living and perhaps, finding new dreams.

    And memory,
    a pretty picture now,

    wishing you peace in your journey...