The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
The birds
were already gone.
A foreign, frigid wind
tore at his clothes
with grieving fingers
as he waited for the startling
crack of gunfire
to announce
a moment
lost in time,
the final, solemn ceremony
of a life well-lived.
His heart split open
on the scattered mounds of dirt,
uniformly shattering the silence.
Roses in winter
always
made him weep.
tore at his clothes
with grieving fingers
as he waited for the startling
crack of gunfire
to announce
a moment
lost in time,
the final, solemn ceremony
of a life well-lived.
His heart split open
on the scattered mounds of dirt,
uniformly shattering the silence.
Roses in winter
always
made him weep.
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