Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
Far off in the darkened marsh,
where only the tallest rushes
rise as ghosts from the blanket fog,
an arm lifts a lantern, aglow
and shrouded in the turbid air,
its light bound in swathes of mist;
powerless to rend the gloom,
it paints the darkness red.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 04.03.23
Prompt: As per illustration.
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