July the Third

The warm sun shines upon his face

But he is weak and oh so numb

He's going to miss this wondrous place

But it's time to go, Death has come


She walks into the room to find

His body lying without life

Fragile was her poor, poor mind

So she'll go and find a knife


She doesn't want to linger on

Without her lover with her there

His soul has left and is forever gone

And it's a fact that she can't bear


She writes a letter to the others

Explaining what is going to be

She rests with him upon the covers

And sets her immortal spirit free


A good friend comes inside the house

And feels a sense of dread

As the rain falls they stop and shout

"Why are my friends dead?!"


They read the note and understand

Just why this has occurred

They look upon the calendar

And see it's July the Third



Hello Everyone,

     I have only been writing poetry for a short while.  However, I have found it to be one of my favorite things in the whole world.  It allows for an expression of thoughts and feelings that is so amazingly freeing.  My hope is that I can gain feedback so that I may improve my writing.  Thank you for taking the time to read my poem and I wish you well in your own writing endeavors.

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