Posted in Poetry

The Brink by L. M. Montes

I saunter to a jagged edge
to watch the sun go down
behind the ocean’s salty bed.
As the sky dims to ebony,
the ivory stars blink
their eyes and watch
me from the vast
expanse of the heavens.

The heavy mists
which evening brings
lifts upward to envelop
and imprison me
as night befalls.

I cannot see
the craggy edge
that looms so far below—-
the mist has cupped its
hands on my eyes,
so the cliff I would not view.

Panic grabs my fearful head,
I cannot move,
for if I do,
I topple till I’m dead.

Posted in Poetry

The Ride by L. M. Montes

Photo by Jennifer Murray on Pexels.com

I sat a top a horse and rode
on fields wet with dew,
a mist it hit me in the face
as my head thought of you.