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| "Through the Trees" by Pat David via Flickr (CC) |
Death's Whistle
By: Eve Estelle
On a brisk November night,
When is hushed your every light,
When at rest are all but the walking soul
Who knows not he reaps the sinned -
Forth they tread, unwittingly,
Death's whistle on the wind.
Loved your poem! :) I have nothing to criticise in this. It's simply short and sweet.
ReplyDeleteWorks for me! lol :) Thank you!
DeleteEach time you come up with one of your writings, you amaze me with your talent. :D
ReplyDeleteThat's very sweet of you, Heena! ^^ Thanks. <3
Deletegorgeous <3 i love the rhymes you interspersed.
ReplyDeleteevelyn clickman @ if these stars shall fall
Thank you, Evelyn! :) I thought the rhymes came out pretty well!
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