Death Is The Bane Of My Existence
In mournful shrouded clouds my darkest mood does dress
in desolated winter drear no spring can bless.
Your death did steal my breath and heartbeat like a thief,
I’m nothing but a dying tree without a leaf;
barren branches bland reaching skyward in drab brown -
doomful gloom, I ache and pray winds to take me down.
June 17, 2018
Contest: What I Really Like Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy
Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018