Through the Blinds

There’s a reach of air in a drop of water
A whale swimming across the clouds,
Stealing souls and eating everyone
Blows, blows, blow
Playing dead allows a breath,
While the dead rise to play again.
Rising from the water wave,
A monster born in a cave,
Taking more one by again.
There’s an apparition after the rise
A beast, a ghost, a dreadful demise,
It took blood, and bone, and brains
Carved the ground to its liking
Riding, flying, fleeing, to
the lands beyond.

Short and sweet, a honeysuckle sound

And a smell of morning dew

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s