on the day she left
May 29, 2017 § 3 Comments
do you think she dreamt of owls
as the taste of monoxide played across her tongue?
feral child
what was it you heard while
catching spirit when others would not
singing the herald wild
the language of
the earth
the only one she cared to understand
(c) 2017 Fred Whitehead
Fred Whitehead's Blog 
That mention of monoxide causes the reader to stop, abruptly, and consider again where this poem is going. That, and the title, Fred, which takes on a new aspect.
Thanks for continuing to read, support and give insight to my work John. It is greatly appreciated 🙂
Hi Fred – no need for thanks: I enjoy reading your work!