For all the sadness that he carried
in his heart. As if the poison running
through his veins had come from
such a distant luminescence.
Through reflections of reflections
of the sun. He cursed his child
to feel it too. The sorrow that
he held so close inside.
room a blur. His head was spinning.
The alcoholic fog was winning.
The poison running through his veins
had substance. He cursed even the plight
of his abundance. Another glance.
Just when the luminescence danced.
cold and cruel, he blamed the moon.
For every feel of blue to which he clung...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .