Foghorn

Long and chilly was the night

The dawn seemed held at bay

She peered out into the dark

Unable to see but unwilling to look away

Without sight other senses heightened

The long, deep cry of the foghorn

Echoing in her ears

How she yearned for morning

When at last the light began to filter

And the fog began to lift and burn off

She turned away from the window

Smiling as she put on her running shoes

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Thursday Thirteen #32

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My Own Mother Couldn't Have Described Me Better

2 Comments

  1. Very nice! You write very well!

  2. Definitely some poignant lines within there.
    Now remember, not all poetry must rhyme. I’d love to see you do some free form poetry this month, stretch your poetic wings a little.
    Have you considered doing the 100 Word Challenge? I always get inspired from that, and usually for a poem. Once we move maybe I can have some with a more upbeat tone.
    Allen loved my tribute to him this week though.

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