Sta.sh
Whiskers crinkle across his chin,
stark white against the tan valleys of his face,
migrating from the dome of his scalp,
but those eyes are still blue and clear
a cloudless summer day contained in them
the kind of day where adults flee to climate control
but the children shrug off the heat
and set off to lands unknown
rescue dragons and flee from barbarian hoards
or sail through the Caribbean on a skiff
battling waves the same color as the sunset sky.
Those adventurer's eyes will tell you of every evil villain
he subdued, with their hissing white cats
and impossible death machines,
of leaping tall buildings in only two bounds
cape trailing after him,
if one would only bend an ear.
| Deviant Login | Shop | Join deviantART for FREE  |
Take the Tour  |
