Nov 2012
Myself unseen, I see in white defined
different shapes. Forming into real things.
A car goes by,
and then another.
Something moves across the street,
it hesitates, then goes.
"Too late!" I yell.
"You're too late!"
A crash, a scream.
I'm frozen.
A sickening thud
as the car speeds away.
Leaving the body on the ground,
to bleed its life away.
different shapes. Forming into real things.
A car goes by,
and then another.
Something moves across the street,
it hesitates, then goes.
"Too late!" I yell.
"You're too late!"
A crash, a scream.
I'm frozen.
A sickening thud
as the car speeds away.
Leaving the body on the ground,
to bleed its life away.
The first line of this poem was taken from my favorite poet. It was from "The Vantage Point" by Robert Frost.
