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This week’s image is courtesy of Brooke Shaden
They all wanted to touch her,
Too long they had waited in the shadows,
The chance was now,
Before it was too late.
The Boy had been taken,
Transposed into flesh and blood,
They wanted a taste.
They reached out their bony limbs,
Pinched and squeezed.
She made not a sound,
Hung lifelessly from the boughs.
The Wind caught her,
Billowing her garments
Like a shroud,
Lifting her spirit up
Into the heavens.
The whispers were angry,
The crack of dead wood
Echoed in the stillness.
Thwarted by forces more powerful,
They had no choice but to retreat
And wait for another lost soul.