Outreached Arms

Sunday the trees across the street tried to grab me
Through the window, I could feel their plotting eyes
Their fingers outstretched across the brick behind them
Boxes of life stacked neatly to create a foundation
I was trying to watch the grey sky and lines of broken blue
Between the clouds of white, cracks of life grew
I didn’t fear the arms and fingers of death, from the trees
I knew they were there to tempt me
I was just merely watching the sky
As the grey started to surround me, I turned on the light
I closed the shades and walked away

© Dallas J. Moore 2013

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