The Stranger

Poetry

Jul 27

by Anthony Hartill

There came a stranger
A stranger to my door

He carried with him
All the words I ever wrote
He carried with him
All the words I ever spoke

He said it will all be forgotten
It will all be thrown away
I said the most, I don’t remember
The rest I long to forget

Now the night is bathed in moonlight
There will be no dawn today
The shapes move in the shadows
The ghosts that wait for us all

Anthony Hartill is lost in the woods.

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