London Poem: Day 135

30 December

How do we see the day,
As it bends over the of night?
Cold hands with a warm touch
Sweeping up to confuse
The looming sulk.
We wake, as we are used to,
To lay in wait for a day
That fails to fold for us.
Hesitation and frail steps
Pile and build to create
Another view.
But, we remain convinced to see
What we’ve already seen,
In great distracting colors,
All in order to pass the time.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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