Sunday, May 25, 2008

Sunday's Story

White Embrace

It reached outward, feeding upon the night,
Reaper prowling for a dying soul.
No rest...until It gained Its goal.
The essence of life nourishing Its delight.
A dog howled a warning to Its prey.
It pulled the victim into Its white embrace.
My father, my father, I give thee succor and grace.
It smiled and became the friend that would betray.

2 deadly screams:

Sierra Wolfe said...

Nice poem Gracen! You always give me goosebumps. Great job.

Gracen Miller said...

Thanks, Sierra. It's nice to know it affected someone. Poetry is really not my strong point, so I don't know how well people receive it.

I wrote this a little while back. I figured with a long weekend folks wouldn't have time to read a lengthy post, so I put this up instead.