A Spell Poem by Barry Middleton
A Spell
Rating: ★3.5
there isn't much time
for prayer or for rhyme
the clock keeps ticking all day
the rain softly falls
and a somber mood calls
the sky is foreboding and gray
I cannot quite believe
for the sharp winds deceive
and hope only seems to betray
for the cold casts a spell
like a dreaded death knell
and grief that forever must stay
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: weather
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4/16/2024 9:29:17 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Ιlike your way of structuring the poems, dear Barry.You have something scelial to say by each one.And say it poeticaly.