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Apr 2018
praying to dad, kneeling in the cool of the day, feeling cursed as an olive tree, lost in the red-deep shadows of inevitable choice, looking through tears, years in the making, staring into the stillness of a longest goodnight, with a dry kiss goodbye, facing an undeniable betrayal, secure in the blooded palm of God's hand, in agony
Still caught up with Easter.
Steve Page
Written by
Steve Page  61/M/London, U.K.
(61/M/London, U.K.)   
204
   --- and Wordmancer
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