Day 8

Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic”
by VC Andrews (pg 19-25 iBook version).

Life is water. It floated
out the door, hardly audible.

But death, that’s bleak.
A dark. It’s haunted.

It didn’t scream or whisper,
but still, its mask froze.

That day went on and on.
Still.And hollow.

for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 8 “Lucky Number”

Lucky Eight

The fates
are playing with you.

What’s behind door number 8.
Lucky you – pick one more.
One potato. Two potato. Four.

Step on a crack and
break your mother’s back.
Knick-knack paddywhack.

I’m late, I’m late, can’t wait,
I’m off for a lucky date.
One potato. Four potato. Eight.

It's Still Life