by Elizabeth Shannon
A solitary nail… in a wall
where the wasp nest once hung, hardly
a sigh from his side of the bed
here only holds a remainder of lace
woven from mud, a life delicately spun
I observed this empty space daily
my gray paper palace,
our imaginary home
a personal labyrinth from which
the architect had long since flown
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student