GaslightA Poem by Helen Crutchett Gaslight A
gaslight's hazy beam flickers though
the thick pea fog of London grim gray shadows dance on cobbled streets moon
yet to rise to light my way Feet
slippery I
cling to deserted doorways As
I stretch shaking arms feeling my way I
take cover from the drizzling sleet Now
chilling my bones to the bitter core I listen and shudder as I hear eerie chimes in the distance getting closer and closer Then
the sound of a horse and carriage plunging
through the soup night as if Jack
the Ripper himself was in pursuit In
my terrified mind I observe in a strangely detached
manner, concluding I have been
plummeted into another dimension... Is
this a dream and will I awaken from this ghastly nightmare soon? Or,
find myself in the shadows of the dark side of the moon?
(c)
Helen M. Crutchett (All rights reserved) © 2018 Helen CrutchettAuthor's Note
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