The world is still. Dark. Quiet. And cold

It’s silence is pipping molten liquid gold
As the sun wearily whispers of riches untold

Leaves in the trees shiver in despair
As the sun mocks mother nature without a care
Creeping. Crawling and gaining momentum in the air

Beyond the hill lies a Mother Daffodil
Her young spores will burn in the absence of the chill
As the sun exalts further and farthest still

The wise Owls soar low for they know it’s too late
They turn their heads as they accept their fate
While phylum by phylum organisms slowly dissipate

Mess with the bull and you’ll get the horns
The bright burning ball had forewarned

Play with fire and you burn, even 6ft beneath the soil
The sun came for the gold. You woke up and did it’s toil

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s