Empty cradle rocking in time

Slowly she smoothens his dusty clothes,
arranging them in the wooden stand,
along with tiny shoes and plastic cars,
never will sparkle his electric wand.

Muted sighs had dried the tears,
her numb world no longer lament,
dragging each day, faking a smile,
trying to frame dispersed moments.

Chaos had suddenly darkened that day,
heavily she paid for their crime,
now grimly watches her forlorn eyes,
Empty cradle rocking in time.

Blog-a-rhythm Prompt – Tiny shoes

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