Withered Hand
The mummy's,
withered hand,
reached out,
across the dark shadow land,
of another time and place.
Coming out of entomb,
giving mortals the evil eye,
his desiccated tomb,
mortals sought for treasures,
putting his golden mask,
for mortals to look upon.
The mummy's,
rotted remains,
became his immorality,
as he cursed the dark tomb,
and cursed the mortals,
his withered hand,
reaching out,
across the sands of time,
his ancient artifacts,
reminds him of what use to be,
of relics of so long ago.
As the tightly wrapped face and limbs,
becoming golden in the haze,
golden as desert sand,
in midday.
The sky above lightening ever so faint-
to the color of slate,
as the mummy reached out his withered hand...
By starstruck13
© 2009 starstruck13
(All rights reserved)
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