A place to escape between here and there

Poetry

The Unspeakable Gibberer

Down dark paths of twisted pines
The wind blows through shadowed vines.
And when the moon is full and high
One might see nights denizens near by.
At the zenith of night cover your ears
For fear of gibbering’s none should hear.
And don’t go peaking for things unseen
For all there is are unspeakable things.
By: David Leingang
Posted by David J. Leingang at 2:06 PM
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