By Jack S.

Pale in the moonlight skin
crystal ball
you might see through
into the emptiness 

Contained in shallow barrels 
meant to hold much more than this 
but she is in there
trying to fill-
or make the barrels smaller

Hardened footsteps
a horse stomps through the mud
getting stuck 
pushing, pulling yet standing there
dragging and dragging
but the cart refuses

the smiles of the scarecrows pass, fall away
replaced with cold gargoyles
leering faces of the unknown
this dreaded companionship
But she’ll continue
grasping for oxygen 
drowning in the shallow pool 
where she lives 
some might swim through 
and the water will take a few 

Jack S. enjoys watching the leaves fall from trees in autumn and acting mysterious in coffee shops. 


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