• Moonlit mornings across the lake
  • Back

The water sits still under the moist fog that moves indecently from shore to shore on the ancient lake. Willowed branches almost touching the dark wet fill of the big drink. A dog barks somewhere distant and bats fill the looming sky as if to mourn those yet to leave us. This place once had hope and promise but now harbours mournful displeasure since the day she first came. There will never be a place like this again, she has seen to that for sure. For sure.

Leave your comment

Leave a Reply