In silent corridors of death

In silent corridors of death
Short sighs and stifled breath,
Short breath and silent sighing;
Somewhere the soul crying.
And I wander alone
Without haste without hope without fear
Without pressure or touch —
There is no moan
Of Souls dying
Nothing here
But the warm
Dry airless sweet scent
Of the alleys of death
Of the corridors of death
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.