I am the iridescent hue,
burning orange, midnight blue,
murky brown or grassy green,
in a vase, a transparent sheen.
Reflections swerve and I observe
colors changing, striking nerves.
Joys and longing, in and out,
like misty sprays and floating clouds.
About the Creator
Lexxie
Amateur poet with an adoration for observation.
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
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