London Poem: Day 150

14 January

The life of sight and sound
Come together without notice,
And without hurry.
Our hands outstretched
We find there is nothing,
It already passed.
What do we wait for
If there is nothing left?
The reoccurrence or the new?
Sound is what leads us to sight,
To where it already slipped off,
Unseen, so the mind latches to
Shapes resembling that of which
We hoped to see, and wait
Patiently for – those
Lovely little feelings
Desired from the onset.

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