Tonight, the moon is a ghost behind the veil,
but my own spirits force me to set sail,
Youthful bravado will be the death of me;
the moon is behind a veil.
The fog laid low, a dirty sheet,
but speed and danger taste so sweet.
My bones grow cold, I must sleep;
the fog, a choking sheet.
My nineteen years, all lost to the light;
Mom and Dad – it’s icy black tonight;
It will be a misty morning for sure,
now I’m lost to the light.
I’ll wait for you, somewhere just out of sight,
somewhere, just out of sight.
Written for Day 19 of the 2025 GloPoWriMo:
write your own poem that tells a story in the style of a blues song or ballad. One way into this prompt may be to use it to retell a family tragedy or story, or to retell a crime or tragic event that occurred in your hometown.
This poem tells of a school friend who crashed his motorbike one foggy night in a nearby village. Though we weren’t especially close, it was still a shock to me. The title is a play on his real full name.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
1994ever 