Slow
Slow the flow of rain.
Now the voice drops lower.
Glow narrow bolt of light.
Below the blood runs colder.
Low below the grass it stiffens.
Now the voice is slower:
Cold light casts thru showers.
Old joints of a church goer.
Slow the sound as thru cotton.
Slow muffled words gathered, gotten.
Old Scratch, near marker standing,
His finger, slowly curls, enticing,
Smile, bright, wide, inviting.
Slow is the idea creeping in the mind.
Slow does the thought grow.
Slow to open eyes, no longer blind.
Slow comes resignation, sorrow.
Not to heaven, no, not there
Old joints, bad soul, down, down there.
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