The discord

The discord

A Poem by andrew mitchell

Of those that
feed on words
death is the page
that no longer sleeps
in naked ambience
with the autumn
rustle of pages blank
the thoughts of ghosts
footsteps tread.

© 2022 andrew mitchell


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Added on February 12, 2022
Last Updated on February 12, 2022

Author

andrew mitchell
andrew mitchell

adelaide, Australia



About
Strindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..