Flash Fiction & Poetry
The Wind
I cried that day.
In the pressence of the grass and sun.
Yet still holding my head high.
Can I have the Ol’ fore sakin’ dream?
My sun pierced tears glowing before me.
The saddness has never felt so pure.
take it. follow the road
Watching the laughter. the accordian in the breeze.
Playing the song of Widows passed.
Seeing the Blood sift through my fingers…
Black and smooth and the enduring flow.
Cunning and strong as I hear the notes in the air.
| Print article | This entry was posted by Chris Westlake on November 25, 2009 at 10:55 pm, and is filed under Uncategorized. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site. |
about 9 months ago
really fucking strong Captain. thanks again for joining and dropping more dimes than stevie nash.
seriously though, great piece…