by Pavel Chichikov
Death became small and sat at my desk
Writing my thoughts on a screen of glass
While I watched from a distance quietly
Then as I moved, turned and stretched
It seemed he did not notice me
Or even perceive my solidity
I looked at the screen and saw him write:
It seems there is a presence here
Which I cannot touch and cannot see
I saw the pale one write this thought:
Life became small and sat at my desk
And I watched from a distance quietly
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.
