a hot spike of adrenaline
sluices into my blood
not a shot, a squirt, or a drip,
but an adamant flood
if you can find someone who gives
you that kind of feeling
without fearing a certain death
but, still, with mind reeling
Hold on!
This entry was posted in Common Meter, poem, Poetry and tagged Common Meter, poem, poetry by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.