C
hange of HeartPerched,
camouflaged,
waiting.
I've searched,
I'm baiting.
Oh, the crunch of snow!
Footsteps crush one of a kind masterpieces
never to be seen.
Oh, the thrill I know,
as deer search for green.
Falling,
pure,
the snow.
I'm calling.
It can't know
it's false.
Unexpected –
the end.
It always falls –
in the end,
to the gun,
sometimes painful,
but fast.
It'll run,
but not last.
Like these flakes,
unimportant,
that also fall.
Neither wake –
at all.
I take aim.
Aim higher,
want to fire.
The same as last time,
little drier.
Then, I am hit
in the nose full force.
This is it.
Shows,
of course,
meaning
wind blows:
symbols,
lessons at times:
spring cleaning,
simple rhymes...
or this crystal that attacked me.
Just one like it, and so soon gone!
Melted by my body heat.
Strange things I see!
I'll let the deer go on
and run,
put down my gun.
Might as well take it apart,
as I've been beat
by a change of heart.