My blood runs cold
My heart beats slow;
and I can see the world
groaning as it spins
upon the point
of a finger.
My pupils dilate
I fear it may be too late;
and trees are twisting
mouths are yawning
open to swallow
the stars.
My veins contract
Life no longer intact;
so far from the horizon
and that burning bright sun
dazzling my blind
creamy eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Butterfly Ripples
PoetryButterfly ripples through water and wind fluttering petals, whispering wings. Words swing 'round trees carried in a breeze of butterfly ripples so do as you please. But don't taunt their song of water and wind: to it they belong and so they will sin...
