We broke on the rocks
in your garden green
planted by those
who despised the scene
We spoke of the shame
Of the blame laid on you
for all the things
that these thieves do
They stole the honeysuckle
tender sweet
and with thorn drew
the blood from your feet
Grey is the sun
black is the sky
rain down tears
for our eyes are dry
But those who hope
for healing and change
hang on yet
just three more days
(November 13th, 2017)
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Post Modern Mystic
PoesíaPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
