Black Lake

I heard a voice, a call to me, I thought,
From somewhere in the fog, perhaps
Upon the other shore. I stepped into
My little boat and rowed across
The inky, waveless water, hearing
Nothing more except the oarlocks'
Groan, the slapping oars. I landed
On the rocky beach, beneath its
Overhanging trees, and, through
The fog, made out a figure, two,
And then I realized that one
Had called, but not to summon me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 65 times
Written on 2014-10-11 at 21:20

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