September 2010
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Autumn this year is tactless Shaking the life from the trees I’ve travelled all this way To ask if I can leave Your absence became Your constant presence The kids always collect The things that we forget A long winter’s coming You can smell it in the air Will I go on thinking of you ‘Till silver creeps through your hair Will I still taste your breath When the ink gets wet The kids always collect...
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The Monastery kisses the land Drizzle shakes a clammy hand Scrapes its last remarks in the sand Tearing her fallen blue dress In the middle of the lake Her body rests there awake Waiting for the day to overtake Swallowing her fallen blue dress The anchor grasps the bed Ceiling masked in pink dread The Monastery finally rests Rippling her fallen blue dress Through machine scarred fingers A memory...
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