And we will sing a song of the season.
And spring will rise as flowers bloom.
And butterflies wounded and beaten
Will fall and die as our voices loom.
And we will fade into the shadows.
And we will sing forever more.
Our memory hangs from the gallows.
But Death knows not the seasons.
We live within the seasons.
I didn't really like the last four lines much, but I thought the rest of it was strong and intriguing. I particularly liked the rhyme of 'gallows'. I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of seeing that done before. It's nice to see fresh rhymes.
P.S. Please comment and vote on every poem you read.