Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
March 16, 2026

Life in Exile

By Wayne Russell

Life in Exile

So alone, dark has returned,
the trees are bare, rain is falling.

This guilty conscience, I harvest
her memory every night in dreams.

Life in exile, blues plays the sunrise,
I play the reclusive music notes, swirling.

No one shall notice if the world should
stop, no one will notice if I slip away.






Article © Wayne Russell. All rights reserved.
Published on
Image(s) are public domain.
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