Imagination's Cove

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Poems
Just a poem paying tribute to one of the makers of intrigue.

Submitted: May 30, 2017

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Submitted: May 30, 2017



She's often seen

By the river --- in the morning

And near the lake

After the setting of the sun.

She can blind you

From seeing stars in heaven

And she plays Peekaboo

With moonlight --- just for fun.


She kisses flowers

And clover on the hillsides

She gives tears

To the Weeping-Willow Tree.

Her cousins are the clouds

In the sky

And someday she will melt

Into the sea.


She is the fog

That mist that congers visions

No murder mystery

Is complete without her there.

In the alleys and the harbors

She sets the stages

With foghorns sounding

Or bloody screams to share.


She has touched the ages

With suspense filled fear

But others are captive

To her charms.

She's as exciting

As the unknown gets

When they lose themselves

In her opened arms.



Says the mist of the morning

Come to me

Let us sail in other spaces

Off we'll go

To imagination's cove

Where mysteries abound

In dark and foggy places.




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