The pounding of drums as I walk on the road of death,
cold chains firm around my wrists.
The crowd is silent, their faces blank,
no remorse in their cold, black eyes.
The soft thud of stone and metal,
as the chains are replaced with a rope.
I feel the rope slide over my neck,
and I take a deep breath as the last words are said.
Drums.
That's all I hear.
Drums of leather,
but what my heart really wanted to hear,
was the drumming of a heart.
My lover's heart,
the one sound I yearned to hear,
the one sound I didn't.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryA collection of poems I've had in my head. Some have been written with prompts from @MusicalMagical and myself!
