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Poetry
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| The Spectre | |
| By bobc | ||||||
| 28 June 2008 | ||||||
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Once over my shoulder, now in my face.
The Spectre of disaster smiles at every morning meal
Consuming more of the feast each day The glint of knowing in it's eye But nothing does it say I clear my plate of what it leaves Make do and smile back I say "you may win eventually" "We all walk down that track" Flowing flavors are for me to taste Disolving on my tongue I am thankful I have tasted much Since days when I was young So consume as much as fate allows Dance with heated breath The Spectre follows all that walk Until we bring it death
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