talons gripping deep beneath the skin.
Carried over treachery beginning deep within.
Observing the delivery of pain.
to control just where you go.
Gliding on the currents of a flow
that holds its strength within a molten glow.
within an aftershock.
Numbered by an ancient intellect.
Amid the horde, to know thyself a speck.
It won't be long.
Death is a song.
sings you softly back to sleep.
From airy heights, you're diving deep.
Back into the things you cannot keep...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .