Writing For G.O.T

Week 2- Day 3- Poem- After the Storm

182 words




After the Storm



After the storm, rain will still gush down the gutters,
wind will drift and lift fallen petals off the ground,
aspens will whisper to moonlight’s thick, furry gloom,
fragments of frightful tales through flowerless hours.

So it’ll be all over; I’ll dream dreams of my own making
since I know to tiptoe through blood, let there be no mistaking.

For time flows in blue rivers, leaving behind blues
inside earth’s dark cracks and unfamiliar lows,
and while age denies memories, messes, milestones,
these fox ears will remain vertical, pert, and alert.

So it’ll be all over; I’ll dream dreams of my own making
since I know to tiptoe through blood, let there be no mistaking.

Next, you’ll return to this room you had once reserved,
the gate will grate at the fence, later inside my head,
then, you’ll sing at my door while I still mourn my pain
and I’ll stuff your mouth with brush, bramble, and thorn.

So it’ll be all over; I’ll find dreams of my own making
since I know to tiptoe through blood, let there be no mistaking.