Krystal Pen

Fiction, Poetry and everything Literary. Every voice should be heard.


The grays have turned dust
and the heads mere skulls.
The solitary brown tooth is now a memory
and the mouth now made of milk.

The boulevards now echo
with a cacophony of empty sounds
and the reproves of fallen trees
now trodden by the branches that sway in the wind.

I heard they once lived;
bones that tell the color of life in their mouth.
I heard they have been chewed
and dumped into the pockets of time.

I heard evil lurked in a dark night
I heard evil lurked in dayspring
and the trees became the color of sand;
the trees whose heads watched from the rare;
because, they fell and never rose.

The boulevards are now headed by dwarfs
and the town, by another dwarf
and no one to tell how sweet a meat is.

Wisdom has left, stuffed into space less soils
and the town now flows with milk
spilled from unripe mangoes.


Photo credit: flickr


Categories: Home, Poems

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1 reply

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