#2 blindness (poetry marathon)

the air was crispthere were shadows otherwise all was dark.

Walking, more like a stroll


eyes like rocks so heavy, unable to open.

A streak of light answered, ” good morning!”


To be honest….is it morning or is it night?

The light has a warmth gathered together in its brightness.

Could it be that soft moonlight that appears on a partly cloudy night as one walks through an evergreen forrest of alders, pines, and cedars

and the echoe of crickets along the silent movement of nasty mosquitoes ready to land on their next culprit?

All i see is light.


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