Seven Terminals

by

Neil Heron

Dallas Fort Worth,you flew with me.Then you left my life,seven terminals around us,a woman waiting like a wife.Your red and black clothing never a code for the time of day.A boarding card I coloured in,and split while sitting in L A.los Angeles had a look out! black red the colours worn,I must have been the foot print before a Mayan walked through corn.New Mexico or Florida,your map was never drawn,our flight paths matched one day my love,my time my dream my fawn! dont wear the darker shades at night be the rainbow in our winters sun,Summer in Tarzana,concrete curbs,and paintings waiting to be done.One two three,four,five,six.Seven bells for An Indian,seven more for a Cowboys son.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Bang
by: Angela Darlene Bean
from: Staunton, VA, US

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