I gaze outside the frosted window,
Seeing shades of black and white.
I turn my head back to the dark,
My eyes burnt by the light.
I double-take and peer again,
Through the thin and icy veil.
The clouds roll in and hide the sun,
And the lights that stay grow pale.
Much like my lifeless skin and bod,
With loosened teeth and tattered clothes.
That keep me from the crisp cold air,
But with a breeze, I freeze, I froze.
Supposedly my humble life,
With treasures few and scarce,
And ungiven gifts by passerby,
Shall soon ascend the stairs.
I peer again, up to the sky,
As flew away the wren.
I thought my eyes deceived me,
But I was wrong, and then...
The clouds grow thick, and darkness falls,
Thunder rolls, a voice that calls,
I glance up past the crumbling walls,
And see the horrendous godly brawls.
I back away and shake in fright,
Guided to the blinding light,
I do believe that it is right,
In hope that if I go I might...
Might, what?
Might see Him there?
Standing by His throne and heir?
Or maybe if I don't go there...
I gaze outside the broken window,
Seeing shades of white and black.
I cannot revive the sight I had,
How I wish I had it back.
YOU ARE READING
Burnt Memories
PoetryA collection of poems written by myself. If some seem to be less descriptive or meaningful than others, it may be one I had written back in 2012. I might even pull out some from 2008, when I was seven and eight years old. So yes, that means I am...