by Ethel Mortenson Davis
We stepped off
the edge of the world today,
blue above us,
blue below us,
nothing but sky and water
around us
until
death’s door
surprised us.
Not yet.
Not yet.
This is still not
yet our time.
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
We stepped off
the edge of the world today,
blue above us,
blue below us,
nothing but sky and water
around us
until
death’s door
surprised us.
Not yet.
Not yet.
This is still not
yet our time.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry