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By Randy Rich
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I am familiar with the darkness,

The slow roll of fog across the bay.

Finding footprints after the snow,

Footprints frozen in the park, December.

Sounds scratch across the moon,

Casting shadows,

The birds loud in their silence.

Love is like that,

Sometimes hidden in the shuffle of time,

Walking on the lake,

Demanding to be discovered

Again…


 

 


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Submitted: Monday, December 21, 2015

Last Updated: Monday, December 21, 2015

About the Poet
I am married and have two beautiful children. I am a Professional Christian Counselor and Director of services for children at a local community mental health center.


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