MAGIC

 

 

Look up to the white skies.

Magic before my eyes.

White flutters to the ground.

Without even a sound.

Masking the dirt with white.

So pretty and so bright.

If it could remain this way.

A blanket for one more day.

OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN — THE DEAD GAME — PART 41

My stroll has turned into more
Than a mere walk in the park.
The peace and quiet is cut short.

The skies rumble and open up,
Releasing their pent up anger.
Their distress echoing through town.

Hot tears fall to the ground,
Cascading through the colors
Reflected from above.

An army of black clouds
Move into place,
Ready to attack.

Flashes of light hit the streets.
I follow its path to the Town Hall.
A building lit from within.

The winds have joined the game.
Swirling gusts directed at my face,
Fingers holding me back in time and place.

No one can stop me now.
I will find out what is causing
Hell to reign down upon us.

OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN

THE DEAD GAME