In this shroud of melted snow
when regrets struck like a blow,
I took your hand full of a story to come
while the frozen crowd went home ...
The next moment the bus was leaving
and the last page of the novel closing ,
living statue of your extinct warmth ,
empty desire of your absent arms ...
The sky dressed colour drabness ,
in my spirit, mismatch and mess ...
We give alms of our nights to destiny,
but dead loves inspiring no charity ...
An old oath gatherer who looked like death
scattering the reliefs of their final breath ...
Time always takes away venison and passions,
bus 60 raven banks in motion for next illusions ...
A strong man in the cold , never crying !
This damn' dirty snow on my eyes crystallizing...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 25th, 2023 05:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
Offline)
Comments3
Deep and rich thinking
Thanks muse. Parody a piece of life...
Very well crafted. I could see it in my mind's eye.
The oath gatherer came for us all...
Deep and intense. I like it.
Thank you for understanding !
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.