Walking on the sand,
Through the mists of time.
A strange building looms
it is the past,
a bunker from world war two
where soldiers could hide
where soldiers could shoot
a German enemy,
I hear the shouts
I see nothing.
The mist is so thick now,
the sea roars as waves lick the coast
and the shouting draws nearer.
Not a breeze stirs the air
the world is still.
Is that shots I hear.
A figure moves in the mist
getting closer, closer.
A man is shouting,
his dog comes running.
I am here,
back in the now.
The mists disguise all
distort the truth.
I see the beauty
in the past,
in the present,
in the future,
through the ocean, the sands and mists of time.
About the Creator
Dreadibek R. J. Dunning
I am a published poet and aspiring novelist from Yorkshire UK. I have three books out available on amazon. I am a vegan activist and am currently working on a new book inspired by my work with the save movement. Writing a fantasy series atm
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