Mina Harker


Echo


A quiet breath, like horses galloping
The dark air is heavy, the night closing in.

There are thoughts at the edges
Hanging off the branches of the wind-battered oak,
Tottering with the walls of the old wooden shed,
Dripping from leaves and in droplets that run
In rivers down the lane-

And then there's the rain.

Footsteps fall like the closing of a tomb

And the words 'Don't go...'
Echo
Round the empty room.

Submitted: Tuesday, September 03, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 04, 2013

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