Fresh from a trip,
where anarchism incarnate ran rampant across the rebel world,
The suspect slipped unnoticed from the room.
In his heart,
a volcano raged,
unceasing from the wellspring of his recent memory.
He stood at the the heck of a stream,
watching it flow on out of his sight.
He knew then,
he would play the game,
finish it and be true.
Here’s a short poem written as a challenge for the Word Beads meme. This was fun, my imagination just took a little jaunt.
It actually sounds like a nice opening to a story…… Hmm….