A poem

Photo by Fey Marin on Unsplash

All decays into despair and death,
even the hopeful ones fall prey to the final breath.
Flowers fade and their leaves wither.
Trees grow old and rot.

What hope awaits me?
None that I can see or feel.

Except a foolish hope,
a splinter of resurrection in reality,
a crack in the…

--

--

Jonny Masters

Jonny Masters

504 Followers

I write eclectically, including poetry and stories with themes such as pets, tourism, humour and politics. I also write about being Christian and gay.