Come and Find Me In My Solitude

Come and Find Me in My Solitude four fingers in a water glass to keep the “creep” away four fingers in a water glass to keep the curse at bay no ice, let’s keep it quiet, hard bite of whiskey’s sting “hair of the dog that bit ya” as the dying grey wolves sing rocking inside the boxcars camping beside the track drowning dreams of a yesterday that’s never coming back huddled beneath “newsprint” blankets curled in pain’s fetal ball dreading the sounds of the sunset fearing the crash of night’s fall praying for death in a doorway shivering against marbled stone a vision through slow closing eyelids of somebody calling him home 12/2/2016 submitted to – COME AND FIND ME IN MY SOLITUDE – Poetry Contest