And God,
please let the deer
on the highway
get some kind of heaven.
Something with tall soft grass
and sweet reunion.
Let the moths in porch lights
go some place
with a thousand suns,
that taste like sugar
and get swallowed whole.
May the mice
in oil and glue
have forever dry, warm fur
and full bellies.
If I am killed
for simply living,
let death be kinder
than man.
YOU ARE READING
Things We Wish We Had Said Or Did.
PoetryI take requests and I am getting back into writing books. I'm starting this one cause I love reaching out to others who are dealing with the same problems. Leave a life and continue to read my book
