As They Chatted Away, He Needed to Find a Way Out (Maastricht Bound)
The over-heated railway carriage
Lends credence to the sapphire skies,
With the Golden Sun within, on this
Frost lingering, still, in the shadows
Is the reveal – behind the curtain – that
Unmasks the true unperfect day.
For it is now the depths of
Winter; ‘Wanter’, a word that is
At once more comforting yet
More honest than the flinty ‘winter’.
Through the angled beauties of the old town,
Deep crevices around. On through
Industry and into the wide verdant
Young people fuss carefully over their
For one an eye-patch, the other minute enough
To be the very essence of ‘person’
Here, now, unknowing, fully-formed,
Unformed, knowing more than we can know.
Trees cling to their last vestige
Of browned-green, the sun beats
On fields in shade
Yet the earth is dead, is resting?
Why such greenery and why such new life
Mocking me anew?
As here I am,
I sit, I live,
Alive. Cold. Decayed, devastated, destroyed.