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Poetry: Cross roads
Sharon Dione / Thursday, 25 March 2021 00:00
Cross roads


Cross roads
Wet ground
Smell of rotten word and decaying leaves
Rushing maggots birth every second
Eyes close as I try not to picture my end
Trapped between earth and my aching head
Clinched teeth
Teary eye
As I count my breath
And pray it isn't my last
God save me, I hear myself cry
If this will be my last, let me have one high
One for the road
Before I set cross roads
(C) Sharon Dione
March 25th
Last Updated on Friday, 02 April 2021 12:18
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