Out was old Alvin, by his now-empty abode.
Months have passed since last harvest
His fields covered in white from snow
As a blanket laid atop his life's quest
Alvin worked many years on his fields
Nearly to death, to sustain souls
As if his purpose from God were yields
That filled with bread his villagers bowls
The harsh winter started in fury
And the ground morphed to a frozen state
Two cows he had the duty to bury
Prized horses left out to thier fate
In a month, Alvin's firstborn fell ill
And left the Earth to return home
From heart break, Alvin's wife lost her will
Joining her child in the clouds to roam
All in the village had their similar woes
Alvin was in no more pain than his neighbors
He had every right to fly with the crows
To flee the agony, and leave his labor
But old Alvin, waiting for winter to end
Would never recover from all his pain
He still had his purpose to attend
His life remained in those waves of grain.
-
Author:
MKS (
Offline) - Published: March 24th, 2025 17:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments2
The harsh reality of the times. Nature can be cruel and it happens to all equally. Lovely
Highlights to me there are people who suffer immense tradegy in their life's, but somehow they find the strength to carry on. The write highlights the cycle of nature in a touching way enjoyed the read
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.