Entrance/Thy Crypt of Tales/Silver Fables/Thy/Aways


I canít see,
Screamed the owl.
Fogged muzzled vision
Torched in waterheat.
Then before this peaceful atmosphere,
A red, yet orange object.
The ground screeched its name,
Upon another.
A blue almost grey object.
Two glows in the darkness,
Merge to one eruption.
The trees looked on,
And the grass will always remember the better days.
The owl hooted again,
I canít see.


All works presented on this(these) pages are presented by and are Copyright © 1998 Joseph John.