04-03-2013, 06:16 AM
Night Terrors
Eyes are empty black beads.
Whiskers tremble for darkness
is a mouth, and life is the sound
of snapped twigs, and crushed leafs
Fear scurries on soft pads.
Without moonlight,
shadows are invisible,
and the breeze belies
the descent of wings--
a question without answer.
Two eyes circle above.
Eyes are empty black beads.
Whiskers tremble for darkness
is a mouth, and life is the sound
of snapped twigs, and crushed leafs
Fear scurries on soft pads.
Without moonlight,
shadows are invisible,
and the breeze belies
the descent of wings--
a question without answer.
Two eyes circle above.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson