A cold wind is blowing;
It makes its way in,
It seeps through the brick
And clings to the skin.
It pierces the heart
With icy disdain
And somehow compels you
To look up again.
And when you look up
What is it you see?
No castle, no garden,
No landscape, no tree;
Just untidy death
Of industrial scale.
Now all human life
Is a second-hand sale.
Thought provoking and brilliant as always, Stephen. The revelation in the second stanza is brilliantly written which is a hard-hitting truth.
Well said Stephen,
Thanks,
Keith
Brilliantly put Stephen! Cold wind, cold hearts, cold blood!
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Stephen Gospage
Sat 11th Nov 2023 08:30
Thank you Graham, Keith and Manish. It's a sad fact that in so many parts of the world pointless death is permanently on display.
And my thanks to Frederick, Aisha, Pete, Steve, Clare and K Lynn for liking.