Paul Casey

Mary Grace Casey

flashes of light
blurred our vision
the drumming
slowed our mission
he rode away
had enough of fishing

it was then
couple hours before
ten
when
sven picked up
a pen

a tree
overshadowed
everything
gave to birds
a place to sing

december evening
i was weaving
he was cleaving
she was believing
this all
had some meaning

in the valley
we spent the night
mornings light
shone bright

he barked orders
to his men
this morning’s count
ten
park on the border
then follow the path
to mordor

hi clair
hey there
we saw the bear
where
down in the
dragon’s lair
gave alastair
quite the scare

we try our best
do what’s right
throughout the night
with energy left
morning in sight
let love rest

did you hear
about lou
what that he flew
and lost his blue
when he took up
with the zoo

i see
he said
up ahead
as she fed
images danced
in their
heads

many a story
revolve
around
the antics of
a cat

land reserved
for artists preferred
to honor
memory preserved

she reached the door
on the third floor
it was locked
the gun cocked
tick tock
clocked the bore
with an oar

at a table
they sat
looking glass
scared the cat
swing a bat
outside
car has a flat

eager to see
she stepped outside
the open door
rain pouring down
splashing sound
turned around
ran inside

the day had
more in the mirror
than ahead
still in bed
she faced her dread
the image burned
in her head