London Poem: Day 332

15 July

In the slow fall of evening
Pain becomes the word, the
Soft and welcoming word, to
Bring the world together.
Got to have one, two, to
Soften the sound of the harsh
Reminder of where you once were.
But, I must tell you, forget
The word passed to you, the sharp
Bend that cut your ears and heart,
Because for the moment,
You are home.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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