Something Is Not Right
The moon hangs low tonight.
In the winds of an evil tide.
Clouds ghostly roam the night.
Trees hiss as I walk by
Starlight opens up the night.
Darkness shimmers at the river side.
Cold lapping on groaning wood
Owl screech pierces life over dead mud.
Reflected silhouette is what I see
The cold dark figure that is me
No warmth, no light.
Something just isn’t right, something else is here this night.
Copyright © A Yorkshire Poet | Year Posted 2022
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