Wednesday, 30 May, 2007


Dawn breaks, the dream aches

To be lost, to be set free

In my minds eye, the picture Resides

Spotted subtle hues

The disgruntled “I know yous”

The fevered “Thank you’s”

And all the things which will never come through

Though the smoke screen is removed

I don’t see anything new

Primrose landscape

Butterflies trying to escape

Azaleas standing shyly against the air

Drooping eyelids

A dilapidated stare

Fresh scented air

With warm decanted air

Green boughs

Plaited ploughs

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