Poems From Nature

Can He See?

Swift movements

Across the den

I stare

From the crooked bench

He lightly pinches

His nose from the stench

While I remain

Sitting on this bench

Oh the smell

But I'm still feeling swell

He's focusing yet

Only on the smell

Can't he see past the stench?

Can't he see me on this bench?

What's obscuring him from seeing me late?

Yet here I am

Staring at his best

He looks so handsome there

I wish he saw me in this dress

It's glittering and crimson red

I'm trying to make him remember

I'm not dead!

Why can't he see me in this bench?

His handsome face is red

Red with tears everywhere

Rolling down his face

And I can't move from this bench...

I yell

At the top of my lungs at the edge

But he's not hearing yet

He's just there

Crying without a say

Wait!

Don't leave me in this bench

I look at my dress

At my red crimson dress

And as he looks past me from this crooked bench

I noticed the red is glistening blood everywhere

I agonizingly yell

And now I know and can tell

That I

Am dead.