Poetry- "Graveyard Shift"

Photo Courtesy of paulpolitisphotography.tumblr.com


Graveyard Shift
by Jennifer Patino

The graveyard shifts,
we are sentinels of sundown
in another quiet ghost town
counting the stars until dawn.

The eyelids lift,
we quicken for the nighttime,
infant owls not quite at prime
shaping glow billows out on the lawn.

The moon is our gift,
we shimmer in the brisk gusts,
to stay spirited we must
for we have been exiled and withdrawn.

Good morning.
We stay steady for
we are the warning.

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