Imaginary

Storm clouds roll in making the sky shine
Simple greys and blues.. The bell
From the church tower
Tolls it's last.
The tree's leaves, are all dead
And lay lifless on the
Ground waiting for a mindless wind
To sweep them away.
Sorrowful crows come to play
In the cemetary to sing a song
To lull the dead..
Blackened gnarled twisted
Old trees reach out-
A hand to offer help to
Their side. Winter draws
Near with the bite of its
Freezing touch just behind
My back.. Standing alone,
Taking in this
World.. So fragile,
So cold.. A place I call home.
I could stay here.. Is
This thing loaded
Or is it just broken..?
I want to stay within
My sprained mind.. Where my
World is full of beautiful
Darkness, with a hint of light.
Is it loaded, or is it broken?
I wish to stay..
But I'll wait for a better
Day to be welcomed home at last.