The Promise
Surrounded by smoke
of a bellowing factory
tied to a promise
I dare not breach
Walking a dream
of evergreen hills
drinking up fountains
of native springs
A flight of sparrows
a vast blue sky
a greeting in dialect
peculiar to town.
On ashes of pines
smoke stacks now arise
not even a speck
of light in the sky
Covered by shapeless
unyielding clouds
the stars have fled
the moon has followed
And yet I am singing
in secret smiling
the promise I have kept
has kept me alive.
First Place Winner: Brian Strand-All Yours April 30 Contest
Sol Magazine 2008 Workshop Second Place Winner-Original Title: Village To Town- A volunteer Nostalgia
Copyright © Frances Schiavina | Year Posted 2017
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