Get Your Premium Membership

The Dying Light

Listen to these words I came this far to say, I am always a bitter breeze of forgotten things, A mystery in the wake of silence. A talent of jaded memories to be replaced by something simple. I am distant in the rise of dawn, A player in a wondrous game of fields and forests I am quick to run, A stream of calm waters flowing throughout the ways. A theme of trying justice without the will to impart A quarter of rigid ground to hard to bare anything Too wide to know why. Too simple to care. Thus remaining a bitter breeze of forgotten things

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 10/18/2018 1:11:00 AM
A beautiful personification poem! Wow!
Login to Reply