Rituals and Crickets
She wore red
midriff across her breast
she took the path
that led to her nest
The crickets sang
a melody to the breeze
Jasmine scented night
Moonlit kissed sky
They stood hidden
amongst the brambles
machetes gleaming
She sang along the path
thoughts of loved faces quickened her steps
they moved one pace closer too
the owl screamed a warning
lady you are led
to a fiery slaughter
“Bloody” nice poetic prose, Biola!
(I hope I will not dream about this scene :))
No! you will not dream about it but I will dream with a smile because you commented. Thanks.
/Following this lady to her death, and the words, condensed and so right. I enjoyed your work, sincerely, Nancy