I dwell in a house, there is no life.
The walls mourn their dead.
Here lingers the voice of death.
Whispering, "my heart lies in the woods."
The walls mourn their dead.
Smoke fills and chokes the air.
Whispering, "my heart lies in the woods."
Our roots no longer grow.
Smoke fills and chokes the air.
Here lingers the voice of death.
Our roots no longer grow.
I dwell in a house, there is no life.
Hullo Peoples,
It's been awhile since I wrote a poem, but I felt inspired tonight. Instead of doing the typical type I write, I chose to do it within a structure I learned long ago.
I hope you like it
-G.E