Waiting for our reasons,
Dead voices
make a noise like flapping.
Like paper.
No, it’s like a power supply hum.
Talking to themselves together.
Hushed voices crackle.
Whispering they whir
On and on the
Stories of the days of
Breath. And life leaves them
Wanting more.
Death is not enough for them,
They whisper in the leaves.
They make a noise like purring lions.
Like rustling leaves.
HoneybeeWood 
“On and on the
Stories of the days of
Breath. ” — so cool. xoxo
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