Sunday, 14 November 2010

the poetician

the trees shivered
and night came down
and the city sparkled
in the cold clean air

and in the morning
i walked upon the fossils of leaves
and the blood sang in my ears

and i floated along a cobbled lane
where the roots of an ancient oak
dislodged the stone of puny time

and colours red and gold
red and gold
stuck to my heels

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