Vikingsholm Poem by PATRICIA DOBROSIPEARSON
Vikingsholm
The lights distilled
viewed through glass
fingerprints distort,
thirsty drinkers
too will pass
to seek another port.
Whines the wind
when bow is broke
leaves for sailors blow,
marveled at simplicity
through glass the light now glows.
Its late she crys
the horn
it tells,
of wayward travelers tales.
Down the hatch
with mortal sins;
they drown.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
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5/2/2024 5:42:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
