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Lost at stormy sea
Swallowed up by ocean deep
Far from any quay.

Massive waves will sweep
Any panicked cry or plea
Into Jonah's keep.

Come esk, be esprit!
Waters call for tolls too steep.
Set these spirits free.
------

The first green is gold
Their dying breath is so cold
Death bell's not yet tolled

Watching and waiting
The trespassers are baiting
To cure their soul's ache

So far from your home
You are lost and so alone
Now you are missing

It is Autumn's will
That the nights should be so cold.
Some leaves will not furl.

Obsidian eyes
See all those who wander far
In mind or body.

Oh, the wind will howl!
This trespasser's will be foul,
mane hung like a cowl.

In the morning mist,
A traveler spies Death's kiss:
the birth of a myth.
For TWWM's haiku event

:iconthosewhowentmissing:

Total: 10 AP
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Submitted on
September 14, 2017
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