Ireland "My friend you would not tell with such high zest,to children ardent for some desperate glory, the old lie; dulce et decorum est pro patria mori"
All poems original Copyright of Niamh Price 384 followers / 8.4k words
Sometimes my silent screams Drown the white noise. Sometimes my shattered smile Comforts their fickle tears. Sometimes I wrap your hand in mine And feel the love unspoken. Sometimes words are not enough. Sometimes words cannot be found. Sometimes ....
A single spear of yellow Whispers a promise Of spring to come. I long for light To pierce the darkness of this forest, To break this hibernation, To bathe in a golden glow, To see the world, And I, Reborn.
Wicked vines Come wrap around me, Dip into my soul And feed your blackened branches. Trail your fingers In the water. Constant ripples, Ever changing reflection. Give me roots to call my own. Sink and save me.