The Woebegone
The Woebegone
As wind begins to blow,
she sobs on her bed.
Is he alive or dead?
She wishes so to know.
Doubts fill up her head.
To doom she seems bound.
Wind makes a mournful sound.
Snow cascading from dismal sky
like her woes - piled high -
buries everything on the ground.
Dec. 29, 2017 for Laura Loo's 10 Lines, 5 Words: Rhyme Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017
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