Dry Dark Falling

Across the wasted landscape bare
There is a dry dark falling:

The last cloud burnt up with the sun
And no more birds are calling

With joy, or even sadness, for
Some mate or friends who’ve died:

The world is fading everywhere
And so am I

= = = = =


Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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