What am I? (riddle) by Quinn Vokes Locked in a dark closet of the past, it does lie. Concealed in a shiny trophy of death, (its soul is crying) until it is brought out and set free to blow across the land like smoke from a fire or to sail down the river like a twig winding around and around. Listening to the wind’s whispers, one can almost hear a new voice added. Don’t cry. Be thankful he’s in a better place. 05/07/2003 Posted on 05/07/2003 Copyright © 2025 Quinn Vokes Member Comments on this Poem Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 05/07/03 at 05:12 PM I'm re-reading and re-reading. My only guess would be ashes -- but I'm probably far off Posted by Rommel Cruz on 05/10/03 at 03:56 PM gossip? Posted by Amanda J Cobb on 09/25/03 at 07:56 PM Funeral ashes from a cremation. That's what I'm getting from this. Good read, nice imagery. :) Return to the Previous Page     pathetic.org FAQ Members Poetry Center Login Signup   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2025 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)