It dies
Tonight something dies
Not of flesh it bone
Not of blood and guts
Not of root or stem
Not of wood or bark
Not of this earthly realm
Not of the seas
Not of the land
But something no less alive
It does not bleed.
It does not breath.
It grows
It was blossoming
Then winter came
It grew too cold
It went bare
It still was alive
Without care it lived
It was to blossom
To bare fruits of its own
But winter is too harsh
It soon will die
And all around will starve.
YOU ARE READING
Poems From a Mad mind.
PoésiePoems I have written. They tend to be quick reads. Some sad, happy, depressing, deep, and everything in between. They are not all good but I like to think I have a few good ones scattered through. Some are short some are longer. So are simple some a...
