May 28, 2009
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Jazz filled shoes
at late night bandstands
while the blended colors of
twirled dresses swirl in
dim lights.

A blue moon smile with
a meaningful silence,
raindrop eyes
magnifying the proud face
in front of her.

Because of an oath of service
to protect and serve
when chaos enveloped the world
like a spider’s deathly cocoon.

White purity turned
to a blood stained mind
which not even time’s cleansing breath
can restore
while a downpour of limbs
tumbles down like hail.

Red sand angels
consumed by a
cruel, cruel fire
fed by the power devouring
mouths of men.

The sweet nectar world turned
sour like aged milk.

And with a silver star
in a small black box,
the weight of souls lost
seems heavier as he
passes around the
Maker’s Mark
to the last surviving six.

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