Death hangs over us like a silent moon
following our slightest step
At times we are tricked into complacency
by the illusion that we have evaded him
...
What remains in my heart
from those I've met
along the way?
Each person leaves a trail
...
We're at the airport crying
my family, friends, my nest
My heart is beating
like a sacred drum
...
I am a retired kindergarten teacher who is currently taking a writing course entitled, Writing My own Life Story in Poetry and Prose. I began writing in my teens and after a long hyatus have taken it up again. It brings me great satisfaction.)
Silent Moon
Death hangs over us like a silent moon
following our slightest step
At times we are tricked into complacency
by the illusion that we have evaded him
but he is only hiding behind a misty cloud