The last day of April, it has been “Poetry month” and a couple of my friends have been diligent in writing poetry nearly daily and publishing on their blogs. So in their honor, I submit the following:
A poem for my friends:
Blood becomes roses in the water, fascinated I am open in augury for the Gods. What they see, they do not share.
I, however, see the future in the clay at my feet and the sun dappled leaves that sway and dance with the April winds.
I see the past in the bullet that kills on both ends – the one that shoots and the one that is shot.
But the present is most elusive, a nagging feeling that the stove is still on; a sharp movement in the corner of my eye. And poof… it slides to become past before my grasping fingers can close upon it.
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