End of Shift

Seraph (click here to learn more)

Almost midnight,
when my shift ends…
and in walks a thief
at this dark hour.

But I’m no prophet,
no vessel,
though I speak with a seraph
every night at this station,
and it beats its blinding wings…
each eye gazing at lowly me.

{This poem is based on a prompt from the poetry community dVerse:
Create a 44 word poem (called a quadrille) using the word “eye”.}

17 thoughts on “End of Shift

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