A Lonely Pinwheel | Short Poem No. 124

a lonely pinwheel
Photo by Guillermo Ferla on Unsplash

A Lonely Pinwheel
Spins in the Wind at a Grave:
Someone Remembers.

By that Graves, He Walks.
He’ll Never Have a Pinwheel. . .
Already Alone.

While His Cheeks are Dry.
A Thousand Tears Flood his Soul
Distant, Lonely Stars.

Pain in the Flower.

Chapter 2020. Honestly Self-Aware.

© TheFragranceWriter.com, 2020, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

Author: Jay Bleu

An Original Blend of Perfume and Poetry

7 thoughts on “A Lonely Pinwheel | Short Poem No. 124”

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