Thursday, 6 March 2014

Resurface

 
The ground too hard to bury their dead,
The battered men outlive the long winter,
Content, on one hand. Somehow life
Was meant to endure, to sustain the little breath
It had infused here, centuries ago,
Seemingly by an unfortunate case
Of circumstances.
 

This is no longer home

On the train back to the old place unsure if any memory is left there Surely there must be an old cigarette burn hissing embers fusing ...