Moving earth
Each handful a dagger
Aimed at mine enemy.
A silent storm, war clouds gathering
Air electrified, awaiting the first strike.
A century passes
A new army sweeps the landscape
Of grandchildren and great-grandchildren
Hearts full of pride and regret
Eyes taking in the lunar landscape
Alive now with wildflowers.
With tears flowing, they dampen that dust, that
Moving earth.
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Author:
Fränz Müller (
Offline) - Published: August 2nd, 2025 06:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso, 🦇ྀིℋ𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓱 🦇ྀི
Offline)
Comments1
Buried in this mound is a metaphor awaiting birth and sprouting. A lovely write
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