i ran across the meadow
often looked behind
i sailed through the wildflower
escaped from his hounds
i reached the crooked stile
stopped to catch my breath
couldn't guess the hidden knife
thirsting for my death.
Author notes
image five
A contest entry
- Twenty Images by silverscent.
700 points, ended January 15, 24 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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