Her Tin Crown
Smile gone, the yellow orb wrapped in haze
leaves sidewalks and lawns lonelier
Darkness o'erspreads afternoon's tin crown
Her realm overmatched
she collapses into
the grim face of night --
stars, squinting cold points in the sky
the moon's paint scraped off the horizon
a Wind that raises goosebumps
~ riding the sere mane of a witch
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2021
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