Tuesday, 5 February 2019

Long Drawn

Long Drawn

Why is it we see the dead abroad 
When nights curtains pulled toward 

And when it parts we breathe relief 
As though the stillness was closing us in

Then we welcome the bird song 
As if heralded a present for us all. 

Is not time one seamless unity 
Bereft of meaning, plodding on

Nothing stays those hands, not even pity. 
But when we watch them, they drag along 

And in the dread of night 
They drag as if, it would not end. 


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