Shall we name the birch of the tree,
That wrestles wind upon the moor,
Given to it the birth of three,
A strike to flee through the corridor.
Let Death wander through its shade,
And rest against the eyes of thee,
Beseech the loss of faith in all the hearts that beat.
Does He whisper the shrillest screams.
The sky shattered into a billion and one,
Pebbles crumbled of tethered bones,
The forlorn moon weeps tears onto the petals,
Of the vines of walls perching up into a safe home.
Often do we see the Sun bathe,
In the shade of darkness, when to us, its light,
Save us the sleep to keep from storms at night,
Lets us scurry along as puny frightened mice.
Stars do mimic our sorrow best
The glimmer they shine show us what the rest,
Think who we are but what we are is instead,
The gloom that reminds us of creatures we have met.
YOU ARE READING
What I Remember
PoetryThis 25 part poem book is a collection of poems that reflect bits of my past present and future. They're quite ambiguous in their meaning, it'll be hard to understand what I'm trying to say, and how it relates to me. Just enjoy :)
