Reminders

Posted: November 14, 2011 in Poems
Tags: , , , ,

She wears a wreath of white
baby’s breath in her hair. Sitting in
the meadow, she touches the purple
mark on her cheek, the sting a silent
reminder that she didn’t love him
enough. She grazes the burn across
her wrist, the painful souvenir
that she didn’t obey him enough.
She removes the crown and
tosses it to the water below. It floats
for a moment, then sinks.

Copyright Danielle Meeker 2011

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s