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Tuesday, 6 October 2015

Waver

I could talk of the beauty of the morning
Of how the trees & hedgerows rejoice
Thanks to the refreshment of overnight rain

I could talk of the nights dream:
Suspicions, surveillance, shop windows, sex
Secret steep passages, string linked doorways
Darkness, death, and the unwavering love
Of ones own mother

Here a time for contrast
New life, old uncertainties
Draw down your own conclusions


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