Christopher Withers

Death Is Cold - Poem by Christopher Withers

death is


not the fading memories
leaching, lost, into the soil,
and warped as jaded speech
woven through the livings tales.
death is seclusion from the sun,
to stall, to stop, to lose ones way,
forever left at last breaths point,
as time continues on its way.
a coldness deep, to lock in place,
persona lost, caricature replaced.
unknowing darkness keeps
the new unknown,
as coldness claims
the final home.

(for Kiwi - 06/08/2009)

Comments about Death Is Cold by Christopher Withers

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 6, 2009

[Report Error]