Tuesday, 26 March 2013

Line of Fire

Line of Fire



I am the bullet,


Poised to enter your head.


Sweet Ivy fills our last


Morning’s air.




You wait.



Up get an encirclement of trees,


Citrus sunlight twinkles past,


As crisp leaves get crunched,


A taste of pure oxygen is engaged.



Surging fear


gets my show on the road.



I wait.



Trigger pulled,


The hunt sounds.


You are dead and so am I.

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