The day shines bright, the wind blows warm,
Folks fill the busy street;
And yet, for all my boyish charm,
They gift no greetings sweet.
Look here, my friends play on the beach,
Games I don't understand;
Their games lie far beyond my reach,
Though in their midst I stand.
And here's the tree I planted once,
In distant mortal days;
Beside him now the river runs,
She, too, has changed her ways.
And over there, abandoned now,
That little house of mine;
Once happy home, once filled with love,
Now filled with cobwebs fine.
Behind my house, my little well,
Where I once drowned and foamed;
Where blessed angels came to tell
That God had called me home...
A contest entry
- NO MORE ENTRYS. by Ginger Woods.
700 points, ended January 1, 43 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Like it? Please comment!
Comments
-
Such a sad amazing poem, thank you for entering my contest, this poem is truly touching.
-
How could you do that to me
I'm shocked that you ended this fine piece of poetry this way
Truly it is a great penning filled with great imagery and rhyme.And the ending is rather good too.
Thank you for the entry and best of wishes to you.
Tony
-
LOVE it!!!! The twist at the end is so fine and surprising, I never guessed that the narrator was dead for many years. i did wonder how old he was. Just such a cool poem.
Adding your comment:
