Your dying eye
Did not cry
Nor cursed its killer
Or wondered why
It merely dampened
With mists of time
Your dying eye
Colour sublime.
A monotone death
Upon times scale
As you watched
The rifles raised
Your turn soon
One by one
To exaggerate fear
Under Aprils sun.
Flickering slight
As life ebbed away
Upon some distant shore
Children at play
Lifes lovers gleam
In pastel shades
Soon your time
In gentle waves.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: June 3rd, 2025 03:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso
Offline)
Comments2
This poem enigmatically speaks of aging and death and the gentle flow of time that brings this on. A most symbolic and hypnotic flow to it. Very nice
appreciated and many thanks
I enjoyed the read, thank you for brightening up my day
thanking you
You are very welcome
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