
The clock strikes the midnight hour
Birds sing in this snow filled empty space
Soon, smiling faces shall play there
For the next hour,
ghosts hold sway over this space
Laughing, remembering their days in the sun
Now snow, cold bites at their white fingers
Their laughter louder,
knocking snow from the leaves
Wind sweeps through the trees
Joining in their merriment
Hear, tiny voices can be heard
A whisper, will you remember us…
© anita dawes 2021
I love the poignant and creepy feel of this poem!
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Thanks, Mark…
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Children of the past- love this, Anita!
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Thanks, Jacque…
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Another great interpretation of the prompt, Anta. Thanks for taking part again. I have just had the pleasure of sharing this.
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Thank you, Soooz…
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Lovely poem and take on the prompt, Anita 🙂
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Thanks, Harmony…
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Lovely poem, Anita, and a beautiful take on the prompt.
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Thanks, Diana…much appreciated…
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