on the edge he stood.

behind him, the country he had so recently traversed.

around him, opponents, all vying for attention,

but it was almost over for all of them.

...

"ready?"

..

The blinding flash.

.

He hated family vacations.

hmm.

I heard the Texan man's accent 

and shivers down my spine it sent 

I knew that every word he said he meant

and fearsome was his drawl

I almost tried to run away

but stayed to hear what he would say

I waited nearly half the day

but heard nothing at all!

her eyes were sapphires....

Her eyes were sapphires...


Set in a beach that was beset often by waves of grief. 


She drew her smile in the sand after every wave.
And after every wave... it was gone.


But her eyes.... 
Her eyes stayed.
Looking up at the stars she could never rise to.




Is this really poetry? no rhyme? or meter? let me know.

heading home.

I love the way the west wind blows.

A lion in a rage,

Except when I am biking home.

And he's not in his cage.