On a morning stroll through the haze
I was seized by a draft
Of morbid concerns

How the earth piles higher and higher
How we’ll take to the sea
In a gust of ash and bone

On a morning stroll
Through an acre of stones
Where a lone steeple tolls
For the dearly beloved

I was swiftly received
By a faraway winter
By an age of decline
Of songs and yarns of regret

If you really enjoyed this poem, you can find even more like it in my latest collection of poetry, The Slums of Nightfall. Just click the title and you’ll be taken to it.