Partitions and Parallels
Partitions and Parallels
Silent, sliding, shadow-moon sly
Glides from the slit, in a
Crow-flocked, Cloud-frocked,
Winter-mocked blue sky.
With half-open eyes, he stares at the last
Who lay their still-sleep of Three Hundred Years Past.
Below lies Thomas, old grounds-man head
With permission he rests amongst the high Lordly-dead.
Beside him, his daughter, Sarah, aged five,
Whispers message of doom, to those yet alive.
More high-staff, scattered, buried around,
Next to Knights,
The Most Reverend,
The marble and mound.
Here now, commoners trample, with no ‘by your leave’
On vaults and tombstones
Where Ancients still grieve.
Whilst the ghost-grey eyes unnoticed, sublime
Marks the
Tick- tocked,
Click-clocked,
Face for all time.
Copyright ©
Janine Lever
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