Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2019
To the left to death;
to the right to work.

Anna, your blond hair
shines in the sun.

Ashes on my
dark hair
remind me of you.

Dogs barked an
unwanted greeting.

Anna, where are you?
I dream of your
blonde hair.

I was sent
to the right
to work;
you were sent
to the left
to death
Terry Collett
Written by
Terry Collett  72/M/England
(72/M/England)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems