Moments pass away as distant church bells dirge;
their widow’s woe in windy waver trembles my tears.
Up the westward hill smoldering neath sunset’s pyre, I carry
the remains of our song in the broken beats of my being, yearning
to yield to burning skies and surrender to spiralling empathic embers.
May 24, 2019
~ First Place ~
Contest: May Premier 8 (4 - 5 Lines Max)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2019
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