Thursday 2 July 2015

the waters edge

Or  why does it matter
That Today is not the day of days
 finger tips  wrapped in baby hands
and I floated
 a fallen leaf on an anxious sea
as in the poem from the water’s edge
 the pink swirls of my dreams
At the radiant sun
That never left no matter
How many, day of days
I  lived through
Without hope


2015




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