The weather isn't calling me.
The birds within, are quiet.
The clouds have stopped their drifting by.
The clock's chiming is silent.
I heard the news and felt its teeth.
Is it always this way,
this crush, this caving in,
with violence?
Copyright June 15, 2013 All Rights Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo from her Tilt-a-World
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