A stale smoke descends!A Poem by andrew mitchellA true story Easter Monday night, My wife coming home late from work! She feels the presence of many spirits and fears the dark to this day from young.
She hops in her car late at night
Work is behind her now. Just a short distance to home Without a care. Then the hairs of her neck bristle Rising so rigid. as her thoughts. Something disturbing is behind her What has she brought! She senses a presence, a menace! A smell of stale smoke On clothing permeates the air. Descending on her senses She frantically drives home. She looks in her rear vision mirror But nobody is there. She turns around in fear But nobody is there. Desperate is her hurry now With eyes of fear Her hearts missing beats Someone is now smoking. But no one appears. Desperation is her fear She hurries up the drive way Straight for the front door Fumbling with her keys She enters and closes the door. She pauses she waits Leaning on the front door She catches her breath The smoke is no more. All is calm, one thinks: The still of night. But she is not going out there She's had such a fright.
© 2015 andrew mitchellReviews
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4 Reviews Added on April 12, 2015 Last Updated on April 12, 2015 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
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