Flyleaf

			copyright@1995 Charles R. Johnson




  

	   My mind  twisting  and turning



	 and squirming  through



	 bright coals of  fire



	 a snake doomed of it's



	    nature



	 To climb and spit



	 To  look  unblinking  into  the sun



	    The worm turns and having



	  turned moves on . . .



	  and onward and away





	 My heart hangs heavily upon my sleeve



	 My head tells me I should leave



	 The word turns fast.   The world turns hard



	 The wind blows free  and easy



	  unsuspecting the torment it  leaves



	      behind. . .



	   Behind, Below,  and  Forgotton.



	 Your love,  My love,  our love . . .

	    Shines bright



	  But  OH!



	Such  sharp edges.