1 minute read
A Geologist’s Study
Orla Pelka
The wind whistles through the shattered windows
Their glass lays on the floor, The room is disheveled and messy
Like a dust storm had swept through
Forcing someone to leave in a rush, A coffee cup knocked over half-empty
Its contents spilled on an old yellowed book Staining its pages, blurring the words, A pair of hiking boots
Their creases and folds worn down from many adventures Rest in the corner, A flashlight still on, lies next to a crystal
Its beam illuminating the sharp edges of the sharp crystal form, On a desk stands a photo of two young girls
Next to it lies a half-eaten orange, the juice leaving a sticky residue on the wood
All left behind in a rush forgotten.
