Poems ✍️

And, in the moments that followed,
there was a sound of sad peace,

a silence quite haunting,
rising over blackfields,

once fresh, verdant meadow,
now long, squared holes;

flowers wilt fast and die
upon August's brown sod

beneath the eye of a mid-noon sun,
leaving stench that the tongue tastes;

dropping roses on pinewood,
death lowered with the sunset;

twilight casts its umbra,
over steel grey stones,

and steep white Crosses,
distorted silhouettes,

and then... that sound-
breeze coursing through the willows,

the last sweet sounds of Life,
the first sweet sound of Death.



FjR-MMXIX