Snow Memoriam

Beneath the blanketing of snow,  
A memory beneath the grass -- 
It lays there, dormant, before spring 
Brings its new life to pass -- 

But memories, like us, all die: 
We have our moment, then we're gone 
Like sun rays on a winter snow 
Just after dawn -- 

So here lies we who read these words.  
We had our days, our cracker crumbs, 
Then went to sleep beneath the snow
Until spring comes

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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