The Cardigan


Midnight Musings

The demons of insecurities and illusion struck her dumb, an unspoken pain lingered in the air, and half-obscured thoughts ripped her apart as she clenched the corner of a pillow tightly and grieved her smothered happiness. Hastily, she pushed herself upright, swung her feet to the floor and without drawing the curtains, stared at herself in the mirror. The diminishing golden rays of twilight which faintly crept in through the windows created a sickly dimness in her reflection.

As she brought a glass of lukewarm water to her lips, her eyes caught sight of her Mamma’s cardigan lying on the dresser next to her perfume bottles. She slid her shaky hand into the left pocket of the cardigan and found a crumpled piece of paper that says, “You are loved” and a letter in Lara’s beautiful handwriting which Rheanne left unopened. She could picture her mother awaiting her at the…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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