Thursday, November 12, 2015

When fear sucks in hope,
holds its breath and refuses
release, and the world seems
to shrink into itself, denying

possibility, promising pain
and gritting brittle teeth,
in the face of optimism;
then do I wait for angels

to whisper thoughts of
comfort, which can prod
open lips of despair;
allowing bright exhale.


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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