Pastel chalks, oceans and setting suns.

What was you thinking as the wet cloth in your hand wiped it from existence?
Did you have no resistance.
Did you smirk as it vanished.
Was it what I deserved.
What demon did you pay for your justification,
to erase from the wall such illumination.
Did you feel it as I looked as I saw,
did you feel my heart shatter right there on the floor.
Did I rise too high
was it to remind me,
you won’t abide that I fly.
What did you think as you wiped at the chalk,
erasing it out wasn’t your fault?

Karen Hayward ©2016

A picture I drew my daughter (when she was poorly) on the chalkboard a few months back got erased today. these are my end of them day thoughts on it. 


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