The Firestorm…

 

In the western skies;

the sun delays leaving,

still radiant giving off a

feeling of peace.

The smoke from the fire

beyond the hills cast a

blushing haze toward the

clouds.

Shadows rise around the

barren knolls where no

birds sing, the air thick

black and menacing.

The sun gives false

serenity, as death befalls

the burning Forest.

©2013.annjohnsonmurphree

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8 thoughts on “The Firestorm…

  1. Elegant! (Did you mean “Forest” instead of “Forrest?”) Thanks for the follow! Very much appreciated. I am in awe of your poetry and am now following you in joy!

    -R-

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  2. Pingback: The Firestorm… | Ta hendene til din kjære – se på dem og hold dem hardt Disse hendene skal du følge, leie og lede. Du skal få føle på varmen fra dem og kjenne en inderlig glede. De skal stryke deg og de skal holde rundt deg – de er ikke skapt

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