The Once That Was
Slit my throat
From ear to ear
The time it took
Was the brief forever
Of a child on a swing
Just a tick
Not even a tock.
I’ll never feel the joy
Of sadness again.
The fairy tales have sprouted wings
Their pages blind as kites
They now wander among daylight’s invisible stars
As darkness descends with its burning lights
I sit in the slow rush of traffic
From inside my car
The rain’s gallop sounds distant
While windshield wipers wave warily
As if sweeping the glass for mines.
*photo image: Wikimedia Commons