The Aftermath Poem by Elizabeth Shield
The Aftermath
To while away the waning hours
beneath the scarlet, sunlit leaves
Now or never, say the flowers
they are dying as you grieve
the wind will pick their ashen petals
and fling them upwards, to the sky
to be brought back by icy showers
as the heavens start to cry
when the silky, sunlit sadness
slips, slowly from your folded frame
rise and brush off all your regrets
you'll play the game another day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 2:37:42 PM # 1.0.0.1119
