Skeletal fingers drift towards us, sadness and sorrow intertwined within their arms; remembrance of being full of life, they cast their lonely shadow upon the ground; no one wishes to sit at their feet, for the ground is cold, and crisp with frost; but then a light pierces through the thick grey blanket, and shines upon the twisted hands, warmth spreads throughout the very core of them; they start to break, cracks form on their arms and fingers, life bursts through those cracks, seeking the light from above; they grow and flourish upon their arms, their silk fingers caressing the bare bones, and then the sweetest of scents erupts from the life that had become a part of the bones, creatures gather to relish in what the skeletons have become, they are no longer bare and dead looking, they now are full and beautiful again; green and white drift around the forest, blanketing the ground in silk, children play at the feet of the big trees, they laugh in wonder at the snow like petals that drift around them.
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Poetry for the soul
PoetryI love writing poetry, as a hobby. Here are a few of my works. Comment if you want a certain poems.
