When the ice melts from gold tinted trees,
And droplets fall away from the sheets,
The light sparkles like glimmering stars,
Falling, bawling, shimmering memoirs
Of when we used to spend winter hours,
Sinking feet on snow covered flowers,
Watching a boy rise up from our hands,
Watching his ashes sink to the lands.
But those days are now over and done,
The boy I knew will no longer come.
Add comment
Comments