Different
'...the thorn in sharpened shade
weathers all loneliness.'
-Hart Crane
Branches scratch the sky
blanching the twilight
pale and grey,
the day is dying;
my way is dark and dismal,
the night jar's distant cry
my only solace
as I wander washed
in reveries of her and wish
with all my heart
it could be different.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016
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