Song of the Dead
The song of the dead
Whistles through the
Naked tree branches
Surrounding me
They echo the memories
Helping me to form their solemn elegy
Their whispers echo
In my rattling head
Drowning out confusion
With the song of the dead
Past becomes present
As they exit my mind
And leave me to suffer
With my song still to find
Copyright © Elena Welsh | Year Posted 2017
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