melissaahowells
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******** the little bird said the little bird one-foot hopping in my head don't live your life at the point of terminal velocity because you'll meet The Terminus so determined to end is He, sometimes, He's not a very nice guy He lives either above or below or lurking behind a shadow or a bat-owl gliding in the sky He is The Determiner, The Abacus, The C.P.A., The Forever Eternal Spy He doesn't care much for your reasons your good name your poetry your excuses and why you fly He likes little birds He crushes them to make His wine His bread His pie The Terminus is no Exodus He decides how, who and when the final circumstances for the end and we'll never know until He whispers into the wind "Little Birdies, all mine, time to go..." legal copyright for this poem and also for this write Melissa A Howells and also for this legally copyrighted site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World time/date stamped 10:01 AM PST June 20, 2019...I woke up with the first several lines of this in my head and then felt compelled to write the rest. Vote for this poem |
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