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Forests Forgotten

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Glass memories rot,
Forests forgotten, dreams are not,
The wind once blew, a colder colour hue,
A hyaline cognizance, swept in to a faster dance...

Around and around, these cinders blow,
Spitting ash, jade moons have grown,
Something wakes, something deep,
Left behind, silent forests weep.

Burn,

Burn.

No amount of tears will put out your fire,
Left all alone, you'll burn until you expire. 

 

The End
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Author guidance for This poem

PaulMacklin To those on the edge of the night.
updated Oct 25 '08 by PaulMacklin

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PaulMacklin PaulMacklin 2 pages
Tomu86 Tomu86 2 pages
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PaulMacklin You're currently reading a chapter in the poem Distant Voices. This chapter was posted on Oct 26, 2008 by PaulMacklin.

This is a collaborative poem.

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