they walk

the dead float through my dreams,

down windy streets of cracked pavement,

heads hung low, occasional stares

from empty, midnight eyes,

 

frayed fringes of shadowy robes

gently glide over discarded ambitions

and piles of long-since burnt-out

stardust, pasty and charcoal cosmic

chimney-soot,

 

they know what I know,

that nothing lives here anymore,

and this is their domain,

they breathe in precious hope

and exhale thick clouds of despair,

 

they suffocate all vibrancy,

smother happiness, and scorch

even the smallest sparks of life,

leaving a thick glaze of filthy,

ashen misery in their wake.

-CV

Reviews

[Chelsea Schermerhorn]

Very nice imagery given. Thank you for entering my contest, you have made it into the first cut of finalists.

[Tania Leigh]

I like this....a very poetic ode to the dead.

Great write! My favourite lines:

"heads hung low, occasional stares
from empty, midnight eyes,"


"frayed fringes of shadowy robes
gently glide over discarded ambitions"


"they breathe in precious hope
and exhale thick clouds of despair,"

Thanks for entering my contest, Chris! :-)