PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A whisper, a soft, calm breath
Slowly becomes the most violent scream
Just like a child, slowly growing to his death
And we plead, we plead its a peaceful dream
And we bleed, we bleed a crimson stream
With a pattern of tears and beating hearts
Families, like forests burning
The trees go one by one, as it slowly falls apart
Faster and faster by moment, my world is turning
Spinning beyond my control
When my strength and knowledge are useless powers
Everything ends, we all take our toll
And some are gifted extra hours
But even hearts of stone have to crack some time...

Because when the wind blows,
the windmills don't forget to chime,
and the doors don't forget to close.

It may be dark in that room
But beauty is always in existance
Because outside, flowers begin to bloom
Even if it's far out in the distance

And then days will come, and turn into nights
Even cold winters will become summer, so hot
When beauty is no longer beautiful sights
As the colors begin to rot
Like the way reflections fade
And where the last tree burned, another will grow
It's branches will provide shelter, and shade
Which will be there to let us know
The end is not true
It lives on forever, so it can help us through
And though we all die, we never...

R. I. P.
Mike Wells
1/12/63 - 7/21/06