Beginning of Something
We are made of clay and clever schemes,
What hearts we have are hidden under bone,
Instead of knives, words are driven home.
And when we hear the whisper of the dawn
On melancholy mornings like today
We wake and in that moment before the ache
Begins again, there is peace in a way.
Copyright © Ashley Poort | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment