lethal blossoms

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The sound of thunder,

The sound of death.

Crashing waves–I can't breathe.

. . .

The white room was long gone, replaced by a meadow,

A field of plentiful blossoms.

Scarlet-dipped dahlias,

Brightly-piercing lobelias,

Agate roses.

Their scents, gracefully mingling in the gentle breeze.

Warmth not permeating from the sun,

But from my sunshine.

My sunshine's melodic laugh drifted in the breeze,

And I stared into his rich, chocolate eyes.

"This must be what heaven is like,"

I whispered contentedly.

My sunshine gave me a look I cannot define,

One filled with longing and fire.

"But you are alive,

How could this be heaven?"

. . .

I shrugged,

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