Time; placed way above the sterling
Way above the tarnished garnered coin
Don’t want expensive presents
If in any way that brings resentment
Of what has been already spent
Talk from far off places
Stairways, and pretty faces
Climb to these elevated floors
With one door
And one window-stay
Elopers share a care to play
Midnight at ten thirty
Houseplants die
By dust fair dirty
A room with a view
Of a railroad, and a moor
Some way beyond
A radio station misplaced
By a Saturday
Being here on a Thursday
A dial beyond
Way past beyond
My least and last imaginations
Would that this warmth
Was as settled, as the mind
Which it endlessly tries to disturb
This body displaced
Replaced each spring
Again each autumn
Then in winter
Dusted, with a thin fine sprinkle
Of fair-weather, soft fallen snow
A room with a view over a fair few years
A mischievous miscalculation
Lost among a long past matriculation
A song; would that
To pluck one single note
In time, in tune
My only; dare I even say
My only one regret
My missed, single, dust-mote note
 |
| Available on Kindle - Click Here |