Surrounded
by shades
of grey
ignis fatuus fog
I lose
my sight
my bearings
at the edges
where shadow and sea
converge
a grey owl
sits on the sill
like
stillness
a silver chain
hangs off the edge
like
promises
a mantra
echoes in the hall
like
orison
and
repose
lays in the bed
like
breath
and
I
remain
adrift
anonymous
Day 5 of 31
Photo Credit: Andre Schoenherr/Getty Images
*A delusion, a false hope
If apathy could write a poem
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