Sep 23
Their pale eyes roved the battlefield.
Sickly, slimy hair bristling in the wind.
Breaking into a gallop,
Their hooves thundered across the ground.
The breath of a hundred grim horses,
Frosting the noses of the fallen soldiers.
Rumbling steeds took the departed,
Beyond their realm.
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Poetry For The Found
PoetryThis is the 2nd part of my 365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions ab...
