I lay
With folded hands and sealed, cold eyes.
You won't hear a complaint,
Nor whimper,
Nor breath escape from these
Pale blue lips.
Icy skin,
Clad in a snowy pall.
The room is warm with candle light,
Stuffed with the comfort of the mourners.
They found my body in the trenches,
With nothing
But a glassy tear across my face
Like a shooting star,
And a smudged smile.
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 5:41 PM UTC
I lay
With folded hands and sealed, cold eyes.
You won't hear a complaint,
Nor whimper,
Nor breath escape from these
Pale blue lips.
Icy skin,
Clad in a snowy pall.
The room is warm with candle light,
Stuffed with the comfort of the mourners.
They found my body in the trenches,
With nothing
But a glassy tear across my face
Like a shooting star,
And a smudged smile.
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