Detour

under roads divided by the snow, goslow and take caution with control– noI haven’t seen them in a while, child,but I’ve heard their haunting song, alongthe banks of the massive river,silver slivers of shadows in the fog,smogwears a different face here,feardoesn’t hold its tongue. I wrote this poem for the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt #145.Continue reading “Detour”