I don't write poetry much, not really. My emotions are better expressed through prose or pictures. But there are some events in my life that I feel must be immortalized in some kind of verse. It's been five years. Today, I finally found the words for that exact moment.
And finally, in one quiet shudder, The November wind has blown out The one kind flame that sought to heal so many ills.
A sterile death is an expected one. Each minute a dagger to the hope of life.