London Poem: Day 323

6 July

Sight through fresh eyes
Veils incongruities,
And the cold, vapid touch
Of repetition.
The swing and volley of this
Swelling life upsets the
Rhythm of an nonrhythmic life.
To see for the first time,
To hold the sea, the rush of
Clear, running blue brings a
Calm renewal to this rolling life.
We know the sound, but the sight
Is a new animal to us.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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