I awoke in a cold room, hunched on the floor beside a black and empty grate, the clock striking three, and the siren howling overhead.C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce
Waking from a winter’s dream Who was speaking to me then? Angels, bright, while demons slip Me thoughts on which they hope I’ll trip, Have guarded me again.
Linked to dVerse Poetics. Mish is hosting with the theme of quoting the last line of a book of our choice and writing a poem on it.