London Poem: Day 361

13 August

You are buried beneath the street,
Under soil and ice,
Cradled between fire.
You are hours gone, and
What is missing is merely a
Vague shadow of how I feel now,
During the small hours,
Juggling the meaning of the good
Going out and the bad digging in.
This is the imbalanced world.
I wanted you to be the one
To set it right.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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