David L. Wilson
Comments about David L. Wilson
"Why are thee crying?" She then said to me,
Thou tales of angels my heart can not bear.
My old soul corrupts, decayed form indeed;
My dead eyes turn to dust from her bright stare
My Grand little girl then climbs on my chair,
As I fall to sleep a sweet song she sings.
My soul flies to a Kitten unaware,
Its soul departed so its life I bring,
I open new eyes to see her take me,
"Daddy it's pop pop" she proclaims, "Meow!"
The adults that she tells smile sheepishly.
I bring forth my claws and my eyes be aflame;
For in this life I shall be not ...