Borders
Without time
Thinly veiled
A dreaming line
The footfall
When alone
Spirits
Who share the zone.
The doorhandle
Which often moves
The creaking floorboard
The silent moon
Its prying eye
Its rounded face
That creeps into
The sleeping place.
The knock upon
A distant door
From the past
It is no more
Locked forever
Far away
Within that border
Kept at bay.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: March 19th, 2026 03:14
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 35
- Users favorite of this poem: RSM0812
Offline)
Comments4
Good write N. Doh! Sometimes this site leaves your poem as 3 verses, and sometimes it jumps and puts it all as one verse. Spooky! lol.
OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOL
The present has a way of banishing the past. Nostalgia is allowed to visit from time to time. Well done
much appreciated for read, thanks
You are most welcome
A good read about war and peace and the the snowball effects of bitter vioelence in the world. I thouroughly enjoyed the write ✍️
thanks for reading much appreciated
Very nice. I especially like
The silent moon
Its prying eye
Its rounded face
That creeps into
The sleeping place.
many thanks for reading much appreciated
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