Through the clouds came a column of gold
Berating the brazen fields below
And through the smoke came a ghost of the past
Reaching out with feeble hands
Much like wind; gone in time's passing
Clutching only what it needed
Tight hands that were clasping
Pulled me in with the dead
Revealing all that had derived
From the seldom cold chambers
To bring me back to life
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Author:
Noah (
Offline) - Published: May 20th, 2018 21:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments1
I like your use of imagery. Good poem
Thank you!
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