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Friday, 28 December 2012

Channelled

Coldness creeps in
Through the open door
As light fades
From the once blue sky

His conversation
Easy and eloquent
A tale of a life
Passed staggeringly by

Window’s on to poppies
Girl in a printed dress
Art that takes over
Caressed as we fly

It's true I could scream 
To be there again
Back into the last
Christmas that I cried

Out on the cold moor
A derelict landing strip
Sat so clearly alone
Old ideas slung out to dry