On The Cusp Of A Dream
I waiver on the cusp of a dream
while through a keyhole I envision
a glorious chorus of cherubic flowers
perfect faces as innocent as creation.
Pure, guileless faces of all colors and races
earnestly plead with tears in their eyes
"save us" they softly whisper in unison
then fading to black, I hear their sad cries.
With a gasp I awaken as the vision unveils
for these flowers are sweet, unborn babes
ruthlessly cut off from the cusp of life
from hands of death they must be saved.
Written on 1/26/2019
Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2019
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