Advertisements
Voids of hearts
are like withered
leaves of bygone
autumns
Young saplings do
sprout in vibrant
springs, hope
takes birth in
fissures of
Earth
But the gloom of
marble tombstones
erected on scarlet
hearts forever
lingers
Tombs inscribed
on polished ruby
hearts stand like
rows of platoons
of martyred
leaves
Midst celebrations
of new battalions
the void left
by the fallen
leaves somehow
always hovers …