Harvest

Gitty, IT gathered the spirits that lingered,
The souls that had withered
Then dark it delivered.

Fumbling without stumble,
All solids to crumble
Silenced voices that mumble.

And warm sun made to shine
As if all was just fine
And IT sat down to dine.

And Hope's spark fell cold
with the full frost of Autumn harvest.

CNK


Popular posts from this blog

One Thought Away

Overcome

Really Beautiful