The Fallen

Black runs like the river

Mixing with the fallen red already on the ground

Swirling, eerily, on the black pavement

Clear drops fall,

Some the pure of rain,

Others heavy & laden with salt

They slide down the smooth surface

Slowly dropping off the sharp angle

Mixing with the fallen color already on the ground

 

Thunder rumbles softly in the distance

Turning upward toward the sky—it is dark

Ominous, dreary—it puts weight on the soul

Downward again, more red, more black, more salt

The rain pulls the colors down the slope,

Promising safety, but only dragging to the doom

Sliding down toward the gaping hole that is the sewer

Back on the hill, she grieves

Her dark outline shadowed by the dreary landscape

Pushing one last time, though they said he was gone

More red, more black, one last salty tear

Mixing with the fallen already on the ground

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