Is It
Is it the leaves under your feet ...
The rusted gate amid the fence ...
Scratching, scraping across the street
Or something one would call nonsense
The rusted gate amid the fence ...
An elm tree clawing at a shutter ...
Or something one would call nonsense
A word one would not dare utter
An elm tree clawing at a shutter
The wind whispering in the dark,
A word one would not dare utter ...
Could be something mundane and stark
The wind whispering in the dark ...
In the distance a shrieking howl ...
Could be something mundane and stark
Could be another something foul
In the distance a shrieking howl ...
Scratching, scraping across the street
Could be another something foul
... Is it the leaves under your feet?
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2024
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