The Room - Poem by Brian Schwall
The room bare;
the odor of fear touches senses dear,
death completes its final journey.
The bed rigid;
form covered in grey now unmoving,
its sheet whispers aloud todays journey.
The eyes reflect;
the hunger guided towards tomorrows flight,
tears score the path of deaths journey.
The love unscarred;
as we stagger in retreat from our dreams,
to pray alone awaiting God's journey.
The room silent;
body still, its greeds and needs defeated,
beauty beginning, our soul's journey.
Comments about The Room by Brian Schwall
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You