Fraught, we are
with misery,
Of that long gone day in February,
Birth and death, are but a cycle,
To an honorable
end, one is entitled.
Nocturnal
nightmares abound,
Tears well up all around,
Not a single day goes by,
When her thoughts don’t make us cry.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for reading; and thank you in advance for the feedback