Those Broken Cellar DoorsA Poem by LivingDeathA memory... A flashback I just had.I remember an old cellar door weeds rising from the hill above it, scattered. There were dying sun flowers amongst them. The ashen colours of the clouds against the incandescent moon. The breeze lifelessly dancing through the echoes of leaves, turning to dust in my hand. The voice of the wind bouncing on the insides of my ear, making a howl like the coyote in the distance. Moist grass clung to the bottoms of my bare feet, the midnight dew reflecting the moons soft rays of colourless light, over the trees that would sing at the unlit skies. Darkness surrounded me.. Standing beneath the earth, before me the cellar door stood, lonely, cold, and alone. The roots of time growing down the roof, tarnished from dirt and grime. It's doors were open but I dared not go in. No light would ever touch this place. No moonlight glow or sunlit sky. In the shadowed darkness I remember those broken cellar doors, what laid there after I will not know but the echoes from within.
© 2011 LivingDeathAuthor's Note
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20 Reviews Added on August 10, 2011 Last Updated on August 10, 2011 AuthorLivingDeathAbbotsford, British Columbia, CanadaAbout"I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not." ~Kurt Cobain. Wasssup guys! I am me, if you want my name, ask me for it. Life in every breath, is my motto. 22 years old, living .. more..Writing
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