It Is
The exaggerated stories
swarms of birds in the walnut trees
it is the touch that doesn't quite connect
to the soul
The bees take over the nectar
buzzing with want
it is a knock at the door
The music too loud to hear
Waiting for the sting to swell
burning blisters beneath the skin
Finally screaming aloud
it is the fire, the heat from the inside out
The consuming finality of embers extinguished
ashes left to die
it is the end
Angela Minard 2012©
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1 Comments:
I really like this. It really produces a lot of emotions.
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