A Summer Day
Azure sky,
emerald grass,
fuchsia flowers.
Baby giggling,
mother running.
Rumbling of four thousand pounds,
honking horn,
screeching tires.
Wails of grief.
Sea of ebony and pearls,
the word 'Angel' became
despised
a beautiful name
now knows hatred and sorrow.
Tiny box
into the ground
lowered.
No more giggling.
Only Sobs.
************************
Hi Y'all!
Hope you like my new poem.
~ B. Whetstone
