The Passion

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

A shadow lurking in the brush.
Concealed by darkness, rain, and lust.
Recalls a touch, a scent, a kiss.
Before the weapon’s blade is thrust.

A short routine for day to end.
Outside — a disunited friend.
Whose swollen eyes are rich with bliss.
A fateful promise to defend.

As unsuspecting angels lie.
And rest their tired calloused eyes.
A well-known stranger now dismissed.
Admits defeat through hollow cries.

The gentle creaking of the door.
In joyous thought of nights before.
A piercing scream invades the mist.
It’s only life, and nothing more.

John Parsell 2019