Barefoot

A simple poem that tells a short story.

The moon may shine,

may form a line,

for tattered toes,

to form in rows.

The sand my hide

or hitch a ride

on waves that crash

and left a gash.

Where sharp shells went,

unseen and bent,

to slice through skin

that was so thin.

The fresh new ache

will make you shake.

The crimson lips,

that lick the drips,

will only taste

the chilling paste

of Helpless prey

who walk the bay

on feet so bare

and fun to tear. 

Reviews

[~*~Peace Keeper~*~]

this poem flowed wonderfully
Great Job :)

[Emily B]

simple poems tell the best stories.

[269]

unusal thoughts about toes- I like it.

[Jetta Zippora]

Wow! Very unique write! Nice!

[John A Common]

I realy like this.