Saturday, November 15, 2014

I stood as the snow fell
In slow, steady drips
At the edge of the deep hole.

It once was a house,
A place with memories
That I was not party to.

Now it is nothing,
Nothing but melancholy
As snow falls.

So I alone attend the funeral
Of a home I never knew
That is nothing but a pile of bricks
And a hole that reaches down to sorrow.

No comments:

Post a Comment