E nshrouded by mist
C aptured, locked away
L ingering in painful memory
I mprisoned by a pale shadow
P assing each night, each day ... alone
S ilently withdrawing from reality
E ncapsulated heart withering
About the Creator
Andrew C McDonald
Andrew McDonald is a 911 dispatcher of 30 yrs with a B.S. in Math (1985). He served as an Army officer 1985 to 1992, honorably exiting a captain.
https://www.amazon.com/Killing-Keys-Andrew-C-McDonald-ebook/dp/B07VM843XL?ref_=ast_author_dp
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The Spring
The sun was high when Lance pulled off the road and into the dusty lot of the service station. The sign back at the hairpin--the first sign in a long time--said they just rolled into Hatter’s Creek, Population 63. It was small enough it didn’t appear on the handmap in Shelby’s lap, yet here it stood, the first backwater township on the fringes of the National Park. The plan was to gas up, restock the snack bag, and press on into the wilderness.
By Zack Graham7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
That' was quite sad or heart breaking
A heart-breaking one
So much pain in this. Loved your poem!