will-o'-the-wispA Poem by Rogue
Through gently waving rows of wheat
and on down the path I have chose The sun recedes and the night awakes in the distance a bright flame glows There, twirling feather light in the dark a ghostly beacon that calls to me Feet now wandering off through the stalks to appease a growing curiosity Solid ground gives way to marshy bog each step sinking deeper in the mire Fingers reach out to close only on air swallowed up in this fated Fools Fire © 2013 Rogue |
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11 Reviews Added on May 21, 2013 Last Updated on June 30, 2013 AuthorRogueAboutWhat can I say? I enjoy writing. Although I dabble in several different genres, I eventually end up back in the realm of Horror. Both pointing out the every day disguised "Monsters" among us and cre.. more..Writing
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