John Atkinson Grimshaw — “A November Morning” (1883)
S treet is deserted save for single sign of life
morning hangs heavy in chill november
as autumn tumbles towards winter
S he feels the losing of the light
the ever growing darkness
the advance of the cold
the time of endings
death’s due vigil
deep silence
dormant
sad
~
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rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse