Thursday 17 December 2020

in deceasing december

 in deceasing december 


the day darkens, rain is coming, they say

it is the lunatic asylum season,

these long dark days of december.

through the big window the day darkens,

reflections of table lamps pop up,

the pale blue sky pales blue to darken

a promise of rain upon a book’s last leaves 

rattling in the wind’s turn over;

and there i am reflecting upon my reflection,

fathering further the past’s surmise that

begs the curtains be drawn on the black thoughts;

for inside me the brightest of past decembers 

remembers the comic’s antics and the smiles

that would never end - even in these dark times

the drapes sleep me a dream upon a big sigh.


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