Society Magazine

POEM: Lost Land

By Berniegourley @berniegourley

POEM: Lost Land
In the silver slips of morning,
fog draped across the land.
Shore definition is fleeting;
no glimpse of strand from strand.
Yet ducks and gulls fly by the nose,
quacks and screeches lend a hand
to we blind few who lean on sight,
and, hence, have lost the land.

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