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Rated: E · Prose · Experience · #998912
JUST A THOUGHT, ON WHICH I GOT NO VOTE.
Life flows from me with each exhalation of breath, and tears water the arid desert of my soul.

The wind howls thru the skeletal remains of my being, and dust, dust , dust portrays me.

A sneeze, the laving of hands, shaking of sheets, and I am no more.

The red of sunset shows so many souls.
© Copyright 2005 K. I. Smet (k-i-smet at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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