Fog concealed the ghosts riding
through our damp fields, forging their
haunts in valleys still tingling
with frosty breath and grassy hair.
They ask questions I can’t answer
about men who start wars and women
who pick up the pieces and swear
history won’t repeat. Are we driven
to chisel our bricked hearts, our doubts
for children born with peace and love sprouts
We watch them play hand-in-hand,
in any language, on any sand.
Words and Coffee Writing 
*super sad*
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I know. Sorry. 😦
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I love this stirring and emotional imagery!
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Thank you!
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Pretty exquisite and wonderful! It would mean a lot to me if you can see my work and share your thoughts’. I have been reading your poetry a while and it’s impressive!! Super emotional truly.
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Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m happy to take a look at your writing. 🙂
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