The blistering heat of a summer sun,
Scorched the essence of a small town.
Pathetic blossoms, once supple and pink,
Drooped, wasted and shriveled to brown.
​
Derelict patches of brittle, singed grass,
Fell captive to soil hard as stone.
Scaly bark peeled from a crusty, scarred tree,
Exposing wood bleached white as bone.
​
Parched fences shed paint that littered the ground.
Sunken sidewalks merged into dust.
Bubbles of molten tar oozed on the road.
Broken signs were shrouded in rust.
​
A bland, lonely row of desolate stores,
Stared vacantly out at the street.
Windows were murky, with loose, rumpled screens.
Withered awnings slumped in defeat.
​
Selection from "Forgotten",
Images From My Heart, pg. 116
"I feel transported to wherever you describe. Imagery is a strong suit of yours - the ability to summon all the small details that truly capture the essence of that small town, or that copse of trees, or that deserted beach, that make your poems take life."
Danielle H.