A poem

This one's from a word prompt: figs, sun, cat-eyed sunglasses, blue ribbon and the last page of a love letter.


Somewhere in a Room

A spring sun kissed
the first bud of figs
outside a window,
the tree sheltering
a room from the light.

A pair of cat-eye sunglasses
sat on a bedside table,
waiting for the chance
to stretch across a face
and prowl.

On the vanity, curled
and ready to primp
lay a blue ribbon,
the kind made to keep
the secrets of hair.

And on the floor,
stained from tears
spilt like milk,
was the last page of
a love letter that
would never be sent.