Death

[poetry in motion]

The Rolling Hills of Green

The new day sun
slowly blankets the rolling hills of green
cold sculptures made of marble
stand silent and serene
withered red roses all covered in dew
the Hollywood sky a melancholy blue
tears feed the grass that grows
along the rolling hills of green
mourners hide their sorrow
behind their Gucci Prada dreams
the living bid adieu
to those that have passed
only memories remain
and the hope that they'll last
seasons move swiftly
past the rolling hills of green
Christmas trees and tinsel
take me back to the scene
the day we lost our mother
on that warm December day
now all.that remains
is a withered rose bouquet