Sunday, 15 September 2013


I collected no comfort from these cold keys
in the brightest months of bloom,
but my own flowers came into fruition
in the meager greying gloom.
The paper seemed to absorb raindrops
and break apart with such clarity
which the computer could not evoke
nor offer the same sincerity.
My walking boots had been collecting dirt
whilst my writing pen was collecting dust
and when the conditions turned for the worse
I peeled away the clay-like crust.
Damp air imbrues my curly hair--
through my scalp, soaking my skull;
and only when the summer's passed
do I feel the skies clear calming lull.

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