Black Rose

by INGRID DE KLERCK

One sullen October morning
his feet lead him to the deserted fields,
where once their heads reached for the skies
In his mind’s eye the images still vivid
of waving tapestries of yellow, red and white
His sister’s laughter echoes in his ears
Brittle leaves swept by bellowing winds,
in between the first pristine snow
His footsteps creating a path
on the map of yesteryear
His breath like smoke,
blown into hands, trembling
from the bitter cold
Deafening silence,
mist rolls in
The shrill cry of a vulture startles him
and as a strange music begins to play
he awakens and starts to weep

Always in my heart, my friend;)