| Author | Message | ||
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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4182 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Borderline Treezaa (T. E. Ballard) Tonight birds die on a wire but do not drop, the cold holds their bodies and they become brown kites, inhaling, exhaling with the wind. I know they are dead because of the smell and the brown ash which slips through my fingers like snow. This is the way of war. Tomorrow they will fall from the sky and it will not matter for they were never beautiful or needed--just common sparrows who did not know where to land. |
