A chorus of thunder
washes over the world;
Hundreds of cities crashing,
The growl of a ghost.
Rain, like falling echoes,
pounds onto the grey;
Millions of screams smashing,
The rhythm of the dead.
The howling wind gushes
through the gaps in the city;
Thousands of monsters roaring,
The breath of our souls.
Then a surge
of softening voices;
Two feathers
slowly falling.
And nothing.
YOU ARE READING
shards
Poetry❝and your words were shards of glittering glass, lodged deeply in my heart❞ a collection of poems and short stories. © 2014 by overcast
