It was cold.
The sun shone brightly
The sky was blue with deceit
-an illusion of calm.
We hung our hopes on a low hanging limb,
filled with the promise that Spring would soon bud.
But the limb snapped.
The canopy that shaded us from our fears was destroyed.
The warmth we sought betrayed us.
It beat down searing, scorching,
consuming that which had been beautiful
-giving life to something dark and destructive.
Hope was cruel,
allowing us to believe that fate could be altered.
It was cold.
The sky was blue,
on the day that I died.
No comments:
Post a Comment