Men wander dim avenues in search of
gin and Jezebel’s to escape
a personal hell.
Steel-toed workers rise with the moon,
shifting the night into the early morn.
A young mother, weary and bleary-eyed,
fingers running over the keyboard
chasing an elusive word count
Written for the dVerse prompt using the word rise or its derivative in a quadrille form.
**Image from https://art.alphacoders.com
All sorts of people rising in the night for different reasons. Nicely done!
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Thank you, Merril 🙂
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I find the word count often elusive.
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