Dead End

a poem by Tony Gill

My throat is dry it thirsts for life
To know it’s too late is pure sublime
The final signal to begin the strife
Between the sun and moon in time

In a dream I dreamt a dream
That my mother wouldn’t know
My fathers gone to such a gleam
My hearts as white as snow

As white as the rose I took that day
Ill remember the scar of Satan’s glare
Come on and see the children play
Their throats so dry from Satan’s flare