One day they awoke to a suspicion
of a world that had passed by in the night.
The bed made and unmade, slept in and cold.
There was no colour in all the flowers
and a monochrome sky whispered of rain.
Unexpected dreams breathed between heartbeats.
Time made a precipice behind them there
clear above, and dark mist swirling below.
There were only the two; no one to blame.
I think we should jump he said, I’ll go first,
forgetting the rope between that bound them.
A hole appeared and swallowed them complete.
Submitted to jingle poetry potluck – hesitations doubts and fears. I was thinking a little of the very sad story of the French family tragedy that happened last month and was on the news here again last week – a middle aged man going off the rails entirely. Sorry it’s a bit tough, this one.