Thursday, 14 January 2016

Which Way Now

From segments born of early words
Among the scribbles on the wall
Before the obvious turned oblivious
To how the ending might befall

Somebody ought to write it down
So many lessons might be learned
But then again there's much to read
So many manuscripts returned

White pages giving blank looks
To pleading gazes unreturned
Soft shimmering’s of glimmerings
Leave the seed of ideas burned

Laughing echoes leap off yesterdays
Where hailing fellows used to meet
Then disappeared in hazy shadows
Where once a home was in that street

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