Αναρτήσεις
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
a small unfocused blur, a standing chill
that slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will
P Larkin
Still wind, no rush
stand quiet for the forecast
then a few shy drops
we know where to
the deep darkness ahead
sunrise brewing abaft
here is no
justice of the doldrums
no hostages held
time has a point to make
to sail east to west
is to follow it start to end
a life within a life
a death within a death
not to be spoken of
not to be named
but to be kept
a hand we're dealt
never more than
come, suffer, go
no one will remember
