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May 2014
I stare out into space,
With too solemn a face.
Envisioning the deceased adjacent to me,
Three pods in a pea.
But they suddenly became relentless and attached,
But still so beautifully matched.
They were clinging onto my neck,
As it gradually became a wreck.
I could no longer see and my face was pale,
Such omniscient spirits and yet me, so frail.
Endless caressing of my face,
Oh, such a disgrace!
I ended up in a place of pure white,
Where there were no longer spirits of the night.
Shari Forman
Written by
Shari Forman  New York
(New York)   
572
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