The High, Distant Places.

Orchard-fresh apples

Golden in the tree crown;

Set-aside chess pieces.

Learning to walk with crutches

So I can be without them.

Never wanted to be old;

It was always something that could

Wait until tomorrow,

Never did the counting thing,

The adding-up calculator game …

 

But the green bleeds

Insidiously into the grey.

So late we go, into

The high, distant places.

 

29/12/2011

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