Beautiful joy turned into gloom,
as death's garden grows a new bloom,
under the shade of a child's tomb.
A white rose dusted with snow,
watered by tears of pure woe,
the boy's there called by sorrow.
Watching his parents cloaked dark as night,
pushing it though with all of his might,
hoping they will see the flowers light.
Only wishing to console,
for what he could not control,
love fills the depth of his soul.
YOU ARE READING
my poems
PoesíaEach of my poems are their own entity, shaded in different hues and personalities. They are empathetic with many universal themes.
