Brighton
Birds are coming down to rest on the
Burnt-out bones of Brighton Pier.
Wish you were here.
My eyes lie well, tell me you're here
With the birds, and the pier, and my bones
Are no longer lonely.
The burnt-out sun comes down to
Kiss the sea, and through the peering birds
Your voice is heard.
Birds are coming down to rest on the
Burnt-out bones of Brighton Pier...
And you're here.
Copyright © Annabelle Jane | Year Posted 2012
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