Broken Wood Poem by Francois Hoon
Broken Wood
A skirmish of hearts
Of bits flown to parts
Yet the friends’ clear love
Holding still all in cove
As dark trees whistle
And green grass allure
The wooden bench silent,
Bending to its bruise
A pang from the core
In desolation must bore
Between him and the Sky
Vexing disenchantment lie
From a wooden soft pith
He beseech Thee
A plea for the breath
The winds,
O truest of death
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4/25/2024 9:35:01 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This is a wondeful poem good write