The Sky Seemed Awfully Close

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A poem about my hopes for the future and, changing myself and (of course), being happy.

There were those gray days,

When the sky seemed awfully close,

Just a few miles up, if even,

 

When the sky seemed close, I wondered,

Was it holding snow?

Was the wind gonna pick up?

 

I stayed inside if I could,

Those days when the awful sky mantled the wolves,

My wolves, there beating at my door,

They were always beating at my door,

 

But they were always louder, always hungrier when the sky was close,

That day I had a bad run in,

The following days I lost,

And all the days preceding them,

 

Days all gray,

With gray sky seeming awfully close overhead,

All days I had painted as such,

 

But eventually I was right,

The last sky on the last day held snow,

It fell and, the world over seemed wiped clean,

 

It was wiped clean and,

All around, there was nothing,

A blinding, deafening nothing,

 

Now it’s different, than anything I had ever expected,

I don’t hear my wolves as often,

As though they’ve grown old and, tired,

Perhaps leaving potential for peace,

 

Perhaps one day I will see the horizon,

Far off in all directions and,

Exceptionally blue


Submitted: December 15, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Black Dog. All rights reserved.

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Comments

hullabaloo22

You capture that feeling of greyness very well here.

Tue, December 15th, 2020 7:08pm

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