Different
'...the thorn in sharpened shade
weathers all loneliness.' Hart Crane
Branches scratch the sky
blanching the twilight
pale and gray,
the day is dying.
My way is dark and dismal,
the nightjar'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 2012
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