As night’s new choreographed clouds
Roll in and over me
I’m sitting, again,
Whole but alone again
In borrowed skin
Beneath a tree that struggles
To fit beneath the sky.
Between a warm metal heron and
A broken kitchen chair leg
I’m stabbing craziness onto
Poorly seen, second use paper
By stuttering light of gutter candles
With stubborn fingers and a
Well-chewed crayon stub.
Not everything has changed.
Not everything needs to.
25/7/2013
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Last two lines.. Seriously, i have a thing for great endings and im always stunned to read your words.
Its mesmerising.
What a lovely compliment; thanks very much.
It isn’t something I have thought about consciously, but now you have mentioned it, yes … I guess I believe in strong endings.
And I always like reading poems myself (or stories for that matter) that leave something to think about.