Infinite

strained love,

no more communication,

nigh on a year,

been breaking the soul,

there’s no sign,

of the never ending heartache,

see how it hurts,

all up in the air.

flying high,

to get me past the viper,

wings cut,

by the angel standing by,

standoff,

 father time has his moment,

leaving them all,

in a state of despair.

hot wind,

blows from the mouth of fools,

one feels,

the time has arrived,

a world spins,

while a dream is put together,

a tower of gold,

heading straight for the sky.

all eyes,

reach out for the ending,

circles squared,

as it falls  to the ground,

no screams,

upon the shattered landing,

flight takes a fall,

now there is blood on the sand.

Author Steve Boddey
For Poetry Pantry