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it was a . . .

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with a vellum of false security
the fortified front door
remained intently locked
against the howling wind
gripping the tempestuous night

outside distorted by the storm
shadows fly freely in the cold
creating persuasive fiction
alive in quiet minds
held locked in slumper

resting with reminisce
sheltered near the stream
persisting the wet moss
continued without recess
residing with the old oak tree


  1. kiz_paws's Avatar
    Your poem takes us from a wild storm to a calm and serene scene ... very cool. I also like the pics you post with your prose, you always pick such good ones!
  2. littlewing53's Avatar
    hi kiz...thanks for stopping by...