WISPS & Dust

by: Thomas Albritton

Thomas Albritton returns to The Margin with two stirring poems to commence the week….



As the mist of the morn rises

The slight sounds of nature awake

Burning crisp in the dawn.

Slowly moving is the wisp of the cool dawn air

The mirrored reflections appear upon the clear waters

The day has arisen in that most spectral vision

The splendors of mountains are cast in this wonders’ play as the wisps sleep for the day.




As we gaze upon the images of the past, listen closely

Do you hear?

The creak of the boards as we wander through

The smells of a time long forgotten

Do you see?

Can you smell?

The collecting dust holds the story as it gently falls upon the ruins of these times of long ago glory.


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