Ash falls to the ground,
black as night out of sight.
I see it with my mind,
the visions haunt me as I sleep.
I look around and see the fire,
orange as the sun as it burns before me.
Things don't shine as bright,
even the sun when it's way up high.
Yet I wonder why, why it shines so bright.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem