The sun might rise, but until then
there’s an ice blue town underwater
the only sign that it’s even winter
in the hills, barren trees and frosted signs

to tell the truth, it mightn’t change
and my bed will never again see light
June mornings, filtering through curtains

My town will be wind-beaten, worn away
broken down and sunk underwater
it will always be November, and I will always wake
to a blue-cold bed, a darkened morning
remembering the yellow hues of
our dear town in summer



Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “49.

  1. Shine a little light on your town and let me see something of what is there, please.

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