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Feb 2013
I stare

Ice cold glass with condensation

dripping

dropping

ticking

tocking

time

The clock tilts at angles

My hands turn and flip

While I sip

My eyes bore into the land

Laid out before me

Like a beautiful woman

Her skin a callous brown

her plateaus and valley's

My lady, my land

I smile into my glass

The screen door slams shut

As they rush in

Knock over my table

Stand before me

Barrel staring me down

The war rages on my lady

The glass breaks

The hands stop

And I laugh
Mary Moussa
Written by
Mary Moussa
550
 
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