Hans-Jörg Bohm · desperation
I hear the wind moan
outside my window
for the lost souls of tomorrow
and feel the bitter taste
of their yesterdays dreams
shadows hunting in the forest
what is left of hope
and I hear voices whispering
promising salvation
for the desperate and lost
fate has no dominion here
nor doubt and revelation
to create a different future
I’ll have to fight again
I hear the wind moan
outside my window
and the lost souls of tomorrow
seem to get a second chance
Poetry Shelter (C) Hans-Joerg Bohm 2017