For The Lost

Photo by Jean-Pierre Brungs on Unsplash

You lay in the dry meadow
Dead spores filling your lungs like weed
You would know
A world of blurred color
Encases entices you to forget

That you live beyond the dead
The hazy days without end
Do you know we watch you
Fading more each day
Your bright hair once red fire
Now dry hay for horses
That no longer prance in the meadows