The Fallen

November 23, 2010
Black runs like the river
Mixing with the fallen red already on the ground
Swirling, eerily, on the black pavement
Clear drops fall,
Some the pure of rain,
Others heavy & laden with salt
They slide down the smooth surface
Slowly dropping off the sharp angle
Mixing with the fallen color already on the ground

Thunder rumbles softly in the distance
Turning upward toward the sky—it is dark
Ominous, dreary—it puts weight on the soul
Downward again, more red, more black, more salt
The rain pulls the colors down the slope,
Promising safety, but only dragging to the doom
Sliding down toward the gaping hole that is the sewer
Back on the hill, she grieves
Her dark outline shadowed by the dreary landscape
Pushing one last time, though they said he was gone
More red, more black, one last salty tear
Mixing with the fallen already on the ground

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