London Poem: Day 357

9 August

The long drive,
Winding and twirling
In the unseen climbing sun,
Dulls a mind set in motion.
The day culls the words
You swim in, wading in soft
Sounds to spill into the
Road falling behind stays,
Distanced from the city
Calling in subtle sounds
Too soft to hear
As the wheels turn
Further for you.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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