Sorrowful Demise of a Mourner's Voyage

I walk on this path
The one known as lonely
With no scream or no laugh
I describe this as homely.

The trees here are great
They sway in the breeze
At their peak, the birds mate
Down below, I appease.

My calm now approaching
I await the dark night
For dreams of high floating
Void of crimson and fright.

The sun starts to set
And my heart slowly pounds
As the birds fly in fret
At long, dark wolf sounds.

The flights now at rest
In wait to break dawn
I prod my hard chest
For the sorrowful mourn.

The sadness arrives
My outlook now dismal
For the misshapen lives
Of deaths thought abysmal.

(c) Paul.A.C.B