104 Degrees

When I saw your glaucous eyes
Stagnant as a lake
I felt an icy cold air
Soaring rapidly like a flash
Cutting, slashing, and splashing
Where would those swans swim to
There was no end to the skyline
Only yellow tulips lay quietly
On a Scottish stained-glass ferry
Is it really that hot
104 degrees
Burning heat waves struck
I do not recall anything similar
All I have in the memory
Is more than the Pandora’s Box
A vicious thought
A wicked plot
And a lethal shot…

Written by Jerski Bjorksen