Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2012
A house bird with a call
So distant and ringing
Alone on a hill
Screams last throughout the singing

Paint now of dreary hillsides
And cold empty lofts
Of torn wallpaper
And warmth all but forgot

Stand atop the crook
The dying widow's peak
And stare down at the neighbours
Who are lifeless in sleep

Stone upon stone
Lined row upon row
They've traded a hearth
For a fresh patch of snow
Jesse LaPointe
Written by
Jesse LaPointe
536
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems