THE CRIMSON REFLECTION

 

 

THE CRIMSON REFLECTION

 

The sky’s crimson reflection

mars the ocean’s blue surface.

As the sun sets for the night,

it hides behind the darkening clouds.

The sky dips into its bag of tricks

to bring forth a yellowed moon.

As the sky becomes inky black,

the water flows blood red.

From the murky depths,

dark creatures rise this night.

Onto our crisp white shores, they walk,

leaving bloody footprints in the sand.

 

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist

DARK SHADOWS LEAVE NO FOOTPRINTS

An oasis where dreams come true.
Palm trees wave in the warm breeze.
Birds sing a happy tune of their own.
Until the night exhales its cold breath.
In torrents of wind across the sand.
Where dark shadows leave no footprints.
And tourists remain innocent no more.
THE DEAD GAME

DARK SHADOWS LEAVE NO FOOTPRINTS

Source:

 

An oasis where dreams come true.

Palm trees wave in the warm breeze.

Birds sing a happy tune of their own.

Until the night exhales its cold breath.

In torrents of wind across the sand.

Where dark shadows leave no footprints.

And tourists remain innocent no more.

THE DEAD GAME

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