The Final Hour…

Memories surface, as rivers

merge with the sea, once

abandoned a strong memory

of how life went wrong.

Cold dewdrops are falling upon

the heart, warring with the soul,

the mind, slashing the spirit

apart.

Consumed in grief like a ship

sinking at sea, winged and

wounded living in the shadows.

Flesh seared by many, it did

not matter.

No one cared, the soul was

shattered, living in a black solitude

within the mind blocking out all

who were unkind.

Thirst and hungered for a chance at

life, received grief and strife.   Now

the cemetery holds the pain a slab of

granite with just two names.

Life merged with desperation and

despair in search of someone who

may care.  In hurt and sorrow, the

soul drowns, too late for happiness

to be found.

In this the cold and final hour,

remembering life , all used up soon

to be free and at last rid of life’s

debris.

©2013.annjohnsonmurphree

ECHOING IMAGES FROM THE SOUL

Poetry EBook on Amazon.com connect link in sidebar – Thank you AJM

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