My mind is filled with uncertain dread,
Like the fog hanging over the town
Just beyond my window pane.
Bare-branched trees
Like reaching fingers,
And lonely buildings with twinkling lights
Rise from the sea of mist;
Rolling in from the ocean grey,
Like so many of the slave ships
Bound for port.
My head is pounding,
Heart is aching
With outlandish feelings, unfulfilled.
Is there a place for me in this world?
Or will I continue to stagger, alone,
Down the thorny wayside,
The migraine-punctured gloaming
Lost in the fog forevermore...
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Comments2
enjoyed and then some...
and what's more.. oh' how I just love the word gloaming....
we have so much of it around here unspoken and uncelebrated, tis such a crying shame..... N
beautiful
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