What am I? (riddle) by Quinn VokesLocked 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 winds whispers,
one can almost hear a
new voice added.
Dont cry.
Be thankful hes 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. :) |
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