Thursday, 12 November 2009


The night is blurred,

As the mist settles amongst these hills,
And the moon is smothered and choked.
This colourless hour ceases to inflict a memory,
And thoughts provoke nothing but dreary echoes of smog and dust,
Of this deadlocked village.

Another effortless day has passed,
Through the trickles of serenity,
As the drizzle drowns out the movement of traffic.
Children confined to television sets,
And the swings swing emptily in the playground.

Autumn leaves, now no longer crisp,
Lay decaying and sludgy in streamy gutters along the roadside,
And the trees stand morbidly bare.
Litter scuffles along the pavements,
And black birds huddle together on chimney pots,
Dreaming of sunshine.

The flames crackle tonight,
And comfort me.
Perchance tomorrow, the sun will shine.
Perchance the snow shall fall.
Perchance puddles will fill and fill.

Nevertheless, tonight, I sleep and dream of sea and sand.

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