The Dockhand
Fading in the crimsoning dusk,
like a predator stalking a prey,
the gray fog stealthily creeps,
crawls through dilapidated
warehouses in the dockyard
long abandoned by the years;
a dockhand squints through
cobwebs of a sooty window,
shadowless symbols of ships
that had come, gone long ago;
his drunken ears could fairly tell
which tolled as the funeral bell.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
