Thursday, October 31, 2019

Squall Screaming

Squall Screaming

nothing but the ticking clock
blustering wind colliding ancient branches
she likes the sound she makes
caring nothing as the sleeping child rocks
new moon giving no light to comfort
all around dark as lonely dark can be
a book slowly slides away from brethren
hovers before falling with loud report
child's eyes wide below trembling sheet
chilled silence sweeps about the bed
just ticking of the clock for company
and the cold skeletal hand that lifts the sheet

peter radley

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