A book of Rhymes - poems for the soul

War Zone

At the bottom of the stairs are my father's,

Tee Shirts,

Jeans,

Button Downs,

Socks,

Belts,

Boxers.

They lay in a heap with hangers still attached,

                    I see only the slight outline of the pile at the bottom of a dimly lit staircase.

But I know that in the middle of the pile,

Lay my mother's heart.

And on top,

Her tears.