Endings

Yellow blades fall in winter sun,
curling and cutting the thin-born air.
Distant bells chime from an unseen church.
A spire of green life shivers.

Shadows of people bend heads in the sun,
waiting and waiting and waiting there.
A flake of high rook in a vacuum sky.
A white day moon looks upon mankind.

And they all lived happily ever,
those slices of soul in winter's heaven.
The great door is leather and lead.
And they all lived happily ever.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.