The Lake.....
lies… still,
a glistening sheet of tin foil,
shimmering in a cold-eyed wind.
At night
the lake still... lies… still;
a coffin with lid screwed light-tight.
On occasion, the moon trickles light,
lightly across the lake's pitch-black back;
the knack of making the coffin lid crack!
Today, I challenge myself
to touch-dive the lake’s chilling depths,
halfway down I halt, a dark vault,
weakens my...
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