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Click hereSometimes in the heat of the stygian night
she lies and tosses and, thinks
would it be better to be anywhere else
what can she do ,
what can she say
Make it all go away
Does it work?
sometimes the call of the bird ,
flying high on a wire,
reaches down
takes a soul and flies with it
Watch the little people scurry and go
Be not one of them, take the time
and stay a while
see the love that oozes from the petal form
that rapt look , the sibilant sound
is that a growl , or merely a resonance
Yet she will prevail and knows it
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 39,000 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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