Cold winds killing the breath of life;
Lands saturated with the bones of the dead.
Pondering the meaning of so much destruction;
Touching the spirits of mindful watchers
Gazing at the signs.

Thieves waiting for the house to empty.

Words buried beneath poignant sensations
Hidden from the living;
Wishing to resurrect sentiments to share
With the deceased.

Death promised the caterpillar its wings.

Sleep stolen in the midst of regrets;
Situations ferried by the unexplained
Within the fog of nightmares.

Remembering her spirit
Leaving without saying “goodbye”.

Published by David W. Jones

Writer. Artist. Sleepless Blogger. Wrestling junkie. Comic-Book Nerd. Every moment is a story View all posts by David W. Jones