Through the Mist
Effulgence of the moon cannot break through
the mist of creeping gloom which has erased
the brilliance of the stars, the midnight’s blue
and oaks like strokes against the hills which graced
our panoramic view. A sickly dew
has come upon our world and left its taste.
The cold seeps in while some sleep unaware
that Goddess Moon hangs pouting in despair.
for any old poem #8 Contest of Skat
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
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