Forests Forgotten
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.
RATINGS BREAKDOWN
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Author Guidance for This Story
To those on the edge of the night. STORY TAGS
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excerpt from A Rice Time to Die by
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading a chapter in the story
Distant Voices. This chapter
was posted on October 26, 2008 by
ElzuWolfe.
This is a collaborative story.
This story is filed under:
Poetry
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