Saturday Night
by Jack Borden
The night is silence
The stars are grim
The memory of violence
Makes stars seem dim
The air barely breathes
Like maybe god above
In his horror may heave
And look away from us
Death fills the air
In a silent scream
But it doesn’t care
About the blood stream
The stars are grim
The memory of violence
Makes stars seem dim
The air barely breathes
Like maybe god above
In his horror may heave
And look away from us
Death fills the air
In a silent scream
But it doesn’t care
About the blood stream
Jack Borden is a writer and small farmer who lives in rural Texas. He enjoys spending time in nature, spending time with family, and trying to practice the presence of God. He is also the author of a children’s fantasy series. His website is Jack-Borden.com and he can be reached via email at [email protected].