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.
Copyright © Romeo Naces | Year Posted 2008
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