She observes. Night needn't worry her, as she stands at the top of the hill. Dawn brings suspense; makes us question what the day will bring...but she already knows.
By Cedar Rose Johnson6 years ago in Poets
Reaching through the electric jungle, I take my daughter's hand. Her eyes acknowledge my presence; she smiles. I smile. Fighting the exhaustion, she mutters:
Old and crippled she stands by the shore. Closer and closer she draws. It was but to be expected, a noble lady of her age, that one day her days would be over.
