The Next
By Leena Norms
I can still smell smoking wood
On Easter mornings
Embers from bonfires we used to burn
Staying up till sunrise
To watch hope return
Now, older, done waiting
For a man in the sky who
Won’t return my texts,
I can still smell on Easter Day
The next, the next, the next.
Copyright © by the author.
SIGN UP NOW!
Sign up for our poetry club and we'll let you know whenever we launch a new event, competition or service!
Get On The List
SIGN UP NOW!
Sign up for our poetry club and we'll let you know whenever we launch a new event, competition or service!
Get On The List