She is poised…
Ready for flight
Her head is turned toward me
Her eyes catch the moonlight.
The moment stretched through time,
A moment of pure silence,
A moment of sheer beauty,
No hint of any violence.
The gun is slowly raised
She’s caught within its sight
There’s a rustle in the undergrowth
And she flees into the night.
No shot was ever fired
To taint that memory
No blood did stain that picture
Of the deer, the moon and me.
'Her eyes catch the moonlight.' Could anyone kill such an animal as this... 'No blood (should) stain that picture.' All the Best, Colin J...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The act of NOT pulling the trigger has made this poem what it is. Superb.... Love, Fran xx