If It Wasn’t For The Mist…

Good morning! I have a poem today that was inspired by something very dear to me. The one thing that may in fact be responsible for my accession to the title of “Writer”. Fee free to throw out guesses in the comments as to what I’m referencing. I read every one. Without further ado:

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The Rite

Ticking tock

Countenance of the clock

In your hands a mirror

In your eyes, a watch

Sitting there

Something queer

What’s that? Just off the pier?

See so far away the light

Never sure in black of night

Whether you or vision’s right

Can’t tell

So overpowering, the smell

Coming from the swell

Pardon me

That’s just the sea

Though still you’ll have to pay the fee

Do you know the price?

Did you roll the dice?

Asking, asking… Not very nice…

To fear a feeling felt so foul

Makes you think to throw the towel

Please just now, secure the dowel

Composed before some ghastly sight

Hide yourself from trick and slight

Gather your things, prepare the rite