London Poem: Day 152

16 January

What fumbling lunacy it is
To prattle about before
The sun’s slow, lazy climb.
Though the darkened streets
Shudder and frown in
Supple defiance to the day,
Nothing may be pulled back
Or retired, and smiling,
The covers fold over to conceal
The rise and inevitable fall.
Up before the day begins
With smiles and struggle.
And yet, the slow growing
Day does not bother waiting for us.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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