Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Slowly

Slowly
(or was it so fast that she did not notice?)
He ate her every resistance
Her futile attempts to avoid
His humble observations
Resulted in a crash of colossal proportions
Eventually,
Nothing but dust remained
Of all she had ever loved or created
Or owned or desired
And, left with him only
She began to die
Slowly

"After all, tomorrow is another day."

Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell