Tuesday, November 2, 2010


fear’s sweet sour smell
pop pop goes another gun
slip the bad man’s soul

stealth is your nature
aloofness your well-known mask
but I pet a cat

minds struggle to think
age hangs loose upon man’s frame
death just brushed my cheek

shifting dunes of time
tick tick until nothingness
life meets a locked door

chop those weeds chop chop
pretty flowers heaven’s gift
who would plant a weed

paulette thibodeau-baker

No comments:

Post a Comment