She was editing around encroaching sleep,
shifting words on an alphabet sea.
Dreams. Visions. Fantasy.
The lone surviver in a shipwrecked story,
tossing words overboard in allegory.
Fogged. Caffeinated. Solitary.
How long before her wavering gaze failed to linger?
How many revision waves to escape the danger?
Slumping. Nodding. Slumber.
©May 2016, July 2020 Christina Anne Hawthorne
About Christina Anne Hawthorne
Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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