This broken cloud.
No rain shall fall.
This world remains,
Untouched by growth.
A flower wilts,
the sun dies low.
Another moon will rise,
while wolf howls loud.
This world dies slow,
with this broken rain.
A cloud hangs low,
drowning the world in fog.
My child weeps.
For my broken heart.
Without the rain,
My mind will go.
Forget my child,
the life you’ve lived.
This world is naught,
for what we’ve wished.
Forever lost,
we never exist.
- Author: Alfred Lord Tennyson (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: September 24th, 2018 06:38
- Category: Nature
- Views: 83
- Users favorite of this poem: AfairlyUselessFairy
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