View Full Version : Poem: The Last of the Last

11-15-13, 12:08 PM
The Last of the Last

When the walls are growing, you’ll be searching
For love, for me, you will be missing
Time, our time, spent scaling these walls
When the walls are growing

When the river runs low, the frogs will be chirping
For water, for mud, they will be croaking
Flies, their flies, buzzing about
When the river runs low

When the sun sets, the birds will be sleeping
For silence, for ease, their dreams containing
Worms, their worms crawling and dying
When the sun sets

When the last leaves fall, there will be rustling
Crunching and crinkling, tussling and blowing
Snow, their snow, softly falling softly swirling
When the last leaves fall

When the last fruit is plucked, there will be feasting
For munching, for lust, it will be satisfying
Cores and seeds, discarded, forgotten
When the last fruit is plucked, there will be hunger