A sound as loud as a roaring lion.
A crash that can be heard by the rustling of leaves.
A roar caused by a pain near the heart.
Dark red drops and brown tufts falling to the ground, staining it.
Nothing seen but darkness.
Nothing heard but footsteps.
Nothing felt but pain.
Nothing tasted but warm blood.
Nothing smelt but death.
A sudden bright white light.
A familiar shape forming in a mist.
A feeling of need to go towards,
That bright white light and that familiar figure.
The brown bear went foward,
And for the last time,
Rested it's head on the forest floor.
The great brown bear had fallen.
 Lumiere Cachee · Sat Jun 16, 2007 @ 03:23am · 3 Comments |
