Up the hill through the grass
The stone is pushed and heaved
At the top the stubborn mass
Decides it's time to leave
Spirals down and up again
The stone is pushed once more
And once in a while a friend
Offers to aid the chore
But often it's a lonely task
Exhausting on the stone
Giving life back to ash
By burning flesh to bone
A shore dreamt on the last foot of rope
To the tide the stone succumbs
In the black between the stars is hope
That one day sleep will come
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Author:
Noah Malice (
Offline) - Published: March 10th, 2018 19:25
- Comment from author about the poem: In response to Charlotte Mae's recent poem
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 122
Offline)
Comments1
Dig it!
I'm glad you do, thanks.
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