The Dark Hours. A poem, by Sinead Blackmore

The night falls with a silent sigh.
The light for which I pine flares once then dies.
Crushed by fear as the shadows surround me.
Hesitant, I retreat.
Alone, my thoughts take flight.
The hours until the sun rises will be my undoing. 
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I’m an amateur poet/writer letting my ink spill freely.

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