Without Stones
we who once were hereso soon shall all be gone
to another sphere
just written off the stone
every face that has been worn
down by years filled with care
looking only to be reborn
prays that faith pays the fare
you wake up in the bed of night
dreaming you were somewhere far
from where you went to find a light
you hope, burning like a star
losing numbers, fingers counting place
spinning thoughts whirl like worlds
always something missing in your face
in your eyes without words...
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 632 times
Written on 2013-06-29 at 17:42
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