Watching silently
Staring at the moon
It's a shadowy light
Under which they swoon
A call erupts forth
Bouncing 'cross the world
Sweeping through empty streets
Around houses does it whirl
But nobody came
It fell hard on deafened ears
Despite the endless quiet
No one ever hears
So there's the moon, see how she flies
Across the sky that night
That hollow moon, so red and seething
For none will hear her plight
One may regret forgetting her
But it isn't known if they care
A world filled with senseless people
As apathy fills the air
Soon enough, that world will end
They cannot live and they cannot see
A ceaseless final evening
When all will cease to be.
YOU ARE READING
Imagination
Poetryim·ag·i·na·tion /iˌmajəˈnāSH(ə)n/ noun the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses. Otherwise known as "Musings of the Balladeer." This is an anthology of poetry I've written...
