longer radar identifiable,
wings clipped until he fell,
fell crashed to earth with an almighty thud,
mind all messed up, synapses spilling from his ears. Mired in mud he
makes no attempt to free himself, for he, brain unwired, no longer comprehends,
he has nothing left but fear and emptiness.
So he is here, waiting,
waiting for death
Tony at dVerse has us going all mathematical, writing Fibonacci, Pascal’s triangle or triangle poems. My effort is that of a Fib. Thanks for the inspiration Tony!
Image: courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons
Author: Maggie McCain