Grief

There’s a bog
called the morgue
Whence I slog
blurred senses wince.
I trip on  logs
Get caught in cogs
I think I’ll blog
To flee the fog
The brutal flog
Low, low,
Low on the hog

Published by hannahtk

Hannah is a footloose Jesus-girl who enjoys family and friends, writing, painting, calligraphy, speaking and teaching, reading, cooking, gardening... She runs an adult foster home in Gaston, OR.

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