
In the long, treacherous night its keening rises and falls across distant landscapes.
Forgiven.
Forgotten.
Then forsaken.
(Didn’t leave nobody but the baby.)
Desolate, dead and dried up from
a long winter.
As it dragged through the months, tirelessly,
it whispered.
It whispered of unceasing
weeping, of whimpering souls
wailing.
In the long, treacherous night
its keening rises and falls
across distant landscapes.
Until it fades.
Until it dies.
Amazing!
Thank you! Glad you liked it!