Think of faded traces of blood in the woods
turned into dust
in a last kiss of grey
Two footprints under the turf
Two dead at this place again
Our eyes are still here,
crowned over perfection,
for we kissed the lack of death
and put stones on thistles
We’re awaken, seen in wounds
Heal, we heal
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Author:
1 SIGFRIDSSON (
Offline) - Published: October 29th, 2023 11:23
- Comment from author about the poem: Taken from the book AS ONE by 1 SIGFRIDSSON.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
Great poem.
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