London Poem: Day 350

2 August

It started slow, and
Ended just the same.
The breeze’s cool, lazy loop
Eating away at the day’s heat,
Suspends the heart, like
Puppet strings left for the night,
To remind the lonely mind that
Home, too, is a lonely hunter.
The sun, folding into itself,
Eats its own to give way
To night, and the approach
Of flight.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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