Originally posted on Thoughts from the Outdoors:

grainy past

—————–

The flies are quick

to the dead and dying,

hovering close to the draft

of one more shallow breath…

Day becomes dusk…

dusk becomes night,

and night fights off the dawn…

to retain a little piece of darkness..

cleverly hidden..

in a dusty corner…

of lights seemingly, friendly face…

A beautiful tapestry it becomes…

Woven into

the gentle contortions…

of what we call..

normal..

life..

———————

David L. Whitman 12/21/2012 at twilight time

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One Response

  1. gasping …

    Like

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