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The poems

Made by Teresa Marrin
© 2010-2012

lonesome

Sitting in the dark
You wait for the loneliness to crawl in
Like a thin finger of fog
Slowly at first
Like a wraith
Just on the periphery of your vision
Treacherous, this fog
Moves more like snake than cat
Slowly enveloping
And you wonder if, this time
It will crawl away
Or thicken like a cloak
And wrap around and warm you
As you step into the night