Children of the Night
The moon, fuller now
casts a ghostly glow
across the snowy landscape.
wind whipped-
ice cold-
twenty below.
We are the children of the night;
no food, no shelter, no home.
Sure to die within this wilderness
in which we roam.
Our bones beg for bread-
our flesh for golden warmth
Shuttering and shivering,
abandoning all hope.
We are the children of the night.
Copyright © Allen Beilschmidt Sr. | Year Posted 2019
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