A night of color in smoke and bruise,
Arousing sounds of frightening clues,
Windswept plains in black of night,
Safe, I think on porch in light.
Ground covered thick with centipedes
crawl o’r my feet as tumbleweeds
jump and roll in windy skies,
blown from darkness by and by.
Brimful seas with coming troubles,
Waves that warn with frothy bubbles,
Rocks that pull me to the bottom,
Now concealed in coral solemn.
Ronald Whetsell's Creative Writing and Poetry Blog 