Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Tom McCone Nov 2012
it was three days before it finally rained,
and, in that time, the sweet succour of sleep had found its way indoors twice,
panoramic, gilded and lithe treescapes,
the slow countryside's inactivity,
the humming wheat,
all outside.
-
it took a such a long, long time to pass,
and all awakening inevitably fell,
back into that fogdrawn mire.
-
all would be lost,
eventually.

— The End —