I’m running in a horror film

totally at peace

sensing the people

passing

through the mist

like frosty ships

cut off from time

with no reference point

in the night

light and darkness

with shades of reflected orange

in the last days

of October

where swamps

are full of fog

and feint music

floats

into my ears

echoing

the past

as I become a creature

of that unique atmosphere

where city conversations

don’t know

this hidden valley of my heart

and I long to visit

even though

my time

between visits

is long.

5 thoughts on “The Hidden Valley of My Heart”

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