London Poem: Day 157

21 January

Those lights a ways off
Shimmer and bend in the
Quiet folds of the night.
As distance grows the
Lights seem to stretch
Forward, blinking green
And seductive.
But, as time folds the
Chase becomes such a bear:
Fighting over the stretch of land
That separates the two:
Me and it.
As far as I crawl,
It never appears any
Closer that it did at the start.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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