Animus

Fri, 06/10/2016 - 16:11 -- gwatson

A serene sky, blue upon arrival, but orange upon departure.

A locked door, but a stranger still found the key.

A home meant to protect, but crumbled to pieces.

A young girl, lost, scared, and alone. Always

 

Many, hours spent searching.

Many, days spent worrying.

Many, weeks took their toll.

Many, months looking for a lost soul.

 

Finally, many years spent to forget.

 

The girl now grown, wonders alone.

The door no longer locked remains open.

The home that could not resist time’s beck and call.

The women who sat there and watched it all.

 

Trees lush, green and fertile with life I bet.

 

Woods that become home to the body that lay still.

Insects that found a home in the dormant soul.

Time, unforgiving, an enemy to all.

Man hunting for sport finds more than he searched for.

 

When hurricanes of crowds search the homes of bugs and animals alike.

 

Parties of five, packs of two roam through the woods, looking for clues.

Time once spent felt renewed. Months to days, days to clues.

Pieces found, but whole never renewed,

To a little girl, who would have been as old as you.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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