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Wednesday, 23 July 2014

Towards Clear

The roar of the sea
Settles my disquiet
The warm wind
Fettles my cobwebs

No more the old stones that crumble on causeways
Here there are no walls for long forgotten portraits

Yes, we could join in
Set aside the words
But I am unprepared
Still there is a tightness


This poem is from the collection