Ivory Casket

Sweet praise dance 
Upon the lips of 
Sinners where the 
Deceased lay lame 
For all eternity 
And lie no longer

 

A lone snowflake 
Falls in a late 
February flurry. 
Fitting for the season

 

Whilst winter wonders 
Why we walk. 
Our prints covered 
And memories no more.

 

The paradox of clean slates 
And brutal honesty of death.

Reviews

[Armanis]

Good use of consonance. I really liked the way it flowed together.
It has a very useful chill to keep even the most bored reader entertained

[Keli C]

Whoa, this is very deep but poignant. I can feel a chill as I read your poem. A sad chill. :(

[harlem_knight]

thank you. I wrote this 10 years after my mother passed and it was all i had left of the memory of that day. thank you for taking the time to read!

[Keli C]

Ahh, I'm so sorry. It was a beautiful poem.