Monday 5 September 2011

Poem

The world outside is grey and silent,
like dark formidable statues
keeping watch o'er grave and tomb,
the only thing that stirs
are lifeless forms and shadows.
The misty hue envelopes us
and keeps us from our selves,
else we would find our way
to death and come home all to soon.
The early morning light
bringing hope of a new day,
for night has passed,
and we’re unscathed,
and to life we’ll spring again.


English Vintner

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