Rows of coffins
Rows of dead
This year is marked by death
I miss many faces
I yearn for their hugs
I miss these people
I miss their touch
I miss papa and his house on the hill
I miss tutu and auntie, I miss the shrill girlish laughs and long winded stories
Outliving people is in itself, it's own story
Today was another day someone was buried
Today was another day
And another
And another.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Journal for Wandering Feet
PoetryPoetry dedicated to where I come from. how I feel being away from home where I've been What I've lived. 🌺please leave me a vote if you like my poems🤙 Please don't post on my content trying to sell me something, send a private email, or asking me...
