I have an image in my mind...
Of a little girl in
A splendid white dress,
Her hair all done up,
Standing amidst a field of black and red.
The sun is shining,
Fluffy white clouds drifting
On a soft Westward wind
Towards someplace else.
The air is dry
But the ground is wet,
Mud squelching beneath my feet.
A vulture circles idly above the carnage,
Looking perhaps for something
Particularly juicy to sink its beak into.
A second sits perched on the girl's shoulder.
It towers over her,
Casting her white dress into grey shadows.
Its claws tear through the fine fabric,
Drawing blood.
She doesn't seem to notice.
She's laughing,
Fresh tears glistening in her eyes...
The world reeks of iron and decay,
But she just stands there
As her white dress is slowly dyed red.
The vulture in the sky screeches,
Swooping low,
Its claws rake at my eyes--
And I wake.
YOU ARE READING
Mind's Tales
PoetryIf you're one of those folks that think that all poems need to rhyme, I'm sorry. In any case, this is a simple collection of poems. A few of them rhyme. But most of them don't.
