a score for the dead;
one must silence their mouths;
for the dead must now head;
to a place living naught.
It sings such beauty;
resilient, dark and alluring;
Its voice of strong clarity;
Its voice so captivating.
as the dead left thine earth;
thy sing of death and tomorrow;
mourning — reminded of your birth;
how beautiful is the clay sparrow.
they sing songs of glory and pain;
as the piano's voice tunes again;
hidden by pews, you stay quiet;
admiring your beautiful requiem.
— Anastacia
YOU ARE READING
ANASTACIA
PoetryA compilation of poems about love, reality and distorted fantasy. Thoughts to words - Touch to feelings - Sight to memories - All I can offer to you in writing. - Anastacia Cover belongs to its rightful owners.
