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Thursday, 12 April 2012

Last Time


Always on the last line
Cynicism less than sublime
Always follow the light, twist
Away from stabs in the dark

Perhaps a breakthrough
See, here I go again

Climb high in mind and mood
Fly at over thirty-thousand feet
Yet for every high spot, I
Pull on the lead lined boots

Aware that in command
The lights shine luminous through

& on this occasion there is no
Last line
See, I so nearly made it







a poem from the collection Painted Toenails in Nortons Grate - Love with Varnish Appplied
available by clicking here