London Poem: Day 228

2 April

Another pub, one more round,
And the heavy concern of a life
Unlived disappears, but one more
And easy living crumbles
As everything becomes make believe.
It is a false rumbling concern
Building out of a restless struggle
Of sleep and the lack of –
Everything is where it should be,
So let those tiny outbursts be forgotten
As we count time, and let it
Become all our own.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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