My memory is like gray rolling hills
where smoke and ash and haunting dragons hide
the sins I have forgotten through my pride
and could repeat should pleasure offer thrills.
The consequences though would give me chills
were I aware. Main paths are much too wide.
The narrow one’s too slippery? May I slide
into the hands of God whose Spirit fills.
Linda Kruschke offers new Paint Chip phrases for this week’s octave. Eugenia offers “haunting” as her Thursday Prompt.