Treasure Island

Donatien Moisdon


New Town


In the fog
a black dog
on the white,
frosty grass
skips, hops
and rushes by.

Above the fog
another fog
blushes and its
purple murmur
in silver dew
sinks its embers…

…while, on the boulevard,
well fed, narrow-minded,
prisoners of their noise
and their brutality,
a few yobs saunter by.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, April 08, 2014
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Topic(s): youth

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