Sunday, 29 January 2012


A fog bank rolled in
Chased by a west wind,
Muffling breakers
Familiar roar.
Darker than midnight
Cold as a warning,
It crept from the ocean
And crawled on the shore.

Silently tumbling
Deep Into the city,
Cloaking the street lamps
Familiar glow.
Touching the people
With icy wet fingers,
Featureless shadows
With nowhere to go.

Grey is the pallet
In shades of distortion,
Revealing confusion
Nothing seems real.
A pale orb is rising
Sun in ascendance,
Strangely diffusing
A dawn that's surreal.

Copyright© Alan Gilbert 2011.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Welcome to my poetry blog.

I hope you enjoy the posts here, please feel free to leave a comment.