Last Call - For Contest

LAST CALL – for contest It slithered through his fingers awakened from hoar frosted stun no thanks for heated hands of savior only instinct’s need to flee. He followed, as it sought heated stones, soft weakened sun, and release from the solitude of the cold blooded clinging to a freedoms fleeing warmth. Slowly, hard shadows cast their spell harsh warning upon a ragged land sands shifting beneath both foot and skin lives passing in the hope of “once again”. 10/18/2015 submitted to – Triple Prompt – poetry contest sponsor – Casarah Nance