Can we not live with greater grace then at birth
red-faced, angry, shuddering with throttled
fists and brutal demands?
Shall we not live out seven, eight fearless decades
as a still-surfaced pond teeming
with silvery fish whose
surface is only broken by the rain?
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
We are writing Quadrilles tonight over at dVerse. Exactly 44 words, including the word ‘Fear.’ Join us!