They Arrive

Where could we go
Trapped in an Autumn wood
Feverish in our desire to leave
Yet we dared not part
To abandon the other
To that cold unknown

I meditate upon a swallow's flight,
Upon a aged woman and her house.

We hear them coming
But we do not run
We know their intent
But we dare not hide
In your eyes I see no fear
A blinding hope of what will never be
Through your hand I can feel your heart pounding
Your presence the only thing to ground me

I meditate upon a swallow's flight,
Upon a aged woman and her house.

They arrive more swiftly than before
Darkness falls, I close my eyes
Your muffled screams
The smell of moldy canvas
The brittle rope against my skin
My final thoughts of you and me
Of the future we had, that will never be

I meditate upon a swallow's flight,
Upon a aged woman and her house.

Author's Note

This is a bop poem. The line: "I meditate upon a swallow's flight, Upon a aged woman and her house" Was taken from Yeats's Coole Park poem written in 1929.

Reviews

[darkgurl]

Wow this is quite the deep write really. I like this. I like this, i thought it was amazing.