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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #2199146
death and grief
I dream it . . .
and now the scene decays and withers away,
all those past sorrows that come slithering
when I close my eyes.
Oh, will there be a time when sadness fades and dims,
when I do not linger among stones cold,
where stone angels lower their heads to weep;
and I stand broken with a wilted red rose,
while memories come creeping, creeping, creeping;
and when even the birds stop their singing.
Oh, will there be a night with no nightmares;
when I can put my head upon my pillow in peace.

Poetry/Verse/I Dream It
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1172-974-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.

© Copyright 2019 Wiishkobi Ode (wiishkobiode at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199146