Slender beams of moonlight enter this darkened place as I kneel, 
always somber, always silent, frozen here, waiting. 



Haloed forms wrought in panes of glass loom as dust dances in the air, 
forming an image in my mind, sparing not my exposed soul. 



A reflection on a mirror's face. 



I raise my head, now defying this callous light.

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Around, all around, the shadows gather.
My dread grows as the dagger of your words falls against my naked soul.
It crushes me, and darkly my soul drips to the barren land.
In numbness I hang my head while nothingness looms.
Now alone, my supplication falls upon dead eyes.
This is because of you

Little Willie

Little Willie, on the track,
Didn't hear the engine squeal.
Now the engine's coming back,
Scraping Willie off the wheel.

~ Cathy Snider