Mourning
Against the wind a breaking heartmourns a love lost from the start.
Memories come and go,
a mindful play of what can not grow.
The thorns of lust and redemption,
haunt a soul full of passing tention.
A reflection seen through glassy eyes
that hold an hourglass up to size.
The time is passing so very slow
if only the tears would humbly go.
They never seem to end these days
for the broken heart that never strays.
Against the wind a breaking heart
mourns a love lost from the start.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.