Dreaming of Satie
Weeping eyes dream, as do mine,
in Satie's melancholic scene,
haunted, his heartbeat,
throbs in my throat,
as I wait in stead,
to capture,
every
breath
of his notes,
restoring all life,
until morning finds,
her blackbirds creeping,
over bleach stained towels,
hanging on my washing line.
Copyright © Kate Davies | Year Posted 2024
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