In the bleak midwinter
I saw holes dug 6 feet
In the bleak midwinter
I saw flowers used to brighten
up the scene
The flies attacked
Women dressed in black
People gathered around
To honor those that they
loved so dearly
The sun shined
And sweat poured down the
faces of the onlookers
The sun shined
And they were once again
reminded
That the land of the living
Has a purpose
For the land of the living
Is worth it
-K
YOU ARE READING
Melancholy Dreams
PoetryMy poetry is an extension of myself. Every time I write, I stain the page with portions of my thoughts and emotions. Pieces of my former self lie in the stanzas. What is left is the current version of myself. This is my story, more or less.
