Everywhere you go now, leaves are falling
tender foliage of spring scorched
by summer heating up too fast.
Everywhere you go, young men are dying
scorched by the heat of hatred
burning up underfoot.
The streets are full of dead
crackling, burning bones and ash.
The hot streets are smoking
in the summer sun.
Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside
Friday, June 26, 2015
Dead Leaves
Labels:
free verse,
poetry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment