:::::::::::::::::::::::::::: A Poem For Pictures :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

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A siren
passes

A sound
causing nothing
 
When it
passes by

Limit
your concern
 
Breathing
Until you can't

The park's ancient
silence
Removes the city
chatter

Small noises
murmur
In a level playing
game.

A
soft conversation
near by
Breaths
away.

Easy.

To kill a bug ends
breath.

The bug has
fear

What does
he
hear?
 

What is God up to?

© Mrs. CarPeo 

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