Ghost dog

Posted: August 17, 2014 in Poetry

Straw-haired, the ghost dog arrived.
The air solemn grey filled with despair.
Unseen by the crone’s blind eyes,
the lashing storm a crying disguise.
The long journey had been in vain, tomorrow the silent force will come.
The silent force to take away pain.
Tumble in and out of sleep and
when the night thins, morning will break.
Birds will, in agitation, sing.
Down in the forgotten garden,
where the river bleeds and the willow will weep.
The ghost dog will lie in an empty sleep.
One day, the silent force will set us all free,
leave a light on in heaven, under the willow tree.

  1. James Condon says:

    That’s beautiful.

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