Out with the dog, back with a poem

The dog and I walk
flat top slag heaps
crushed cinder paths
atop a rich vein of verse.

Convinced all words will
soon fail me
I pray to the Mother
of Mother Earth.

My heart sinks
bitter back home;
my muse, my love long gone
but the dog still runs blindly
into the empty kitchen;
where like the sun
you once shone.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

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