melissaahowells
|
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|
the skies
for all their November blue-brilliance are poised for rain they cry for all of yesterday's remembrances and I am my brother's keeper and I am my Mother's pretended friend and my Father's lost soul who are you in all of this blue-brilliance this sky show of last leaves and ruby glow so scarlet they remind me of blood and the ties which no longer tie November is the month where memory goes to die and wither and fall to the ground waiting for winter winds to sweep them all around we who have slumbered through this year that never was a parade of ghosts and lack of showing where is everyone and everything going to the dusk and to the dust and to the shroud what are these shadow words we scream aloud full of voice but meaning almost nothing. legal copyright for this poem 1:33pm PST time and date stamped directly to the page and also for this writer/author Melissa A. Howells and also for this Legally Copyrighted and Registered Site Title MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD Vote for this poem |
|
