Dead Tree Road Poem by Sarah Liz Bowman
Dead Tree Road
The night is dark
The wind is cold
The trees are bare
Tonight the cold cresent moon bathes the trees in an erie glow. Pale branches claw at the sky like skeletal hands. Yellow eyes watch from a near by tree. Tonight is a night ghost stories are made of. On a night like tonight the stories take on a life of their own.
(2011)
Monday, February 2, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: old memory
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4/25/2024 9:08:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
