Sullen glance and slovenly dressed: she staggers in tatters
Flattened papers dancing in the light of a window.
Out to the baking sun.
Dining out and burning winters white skin,
Pink blades scrape on the barbed concrete kerb
Disturbing deluded peace
Quietly crushed fragrance smothers
An action to divide attention.
Mention the breeze; cool and fresh beating the confusion.
Precluding a mention on a screen
The place: crowds meet,
Sowing seeds of doubt
Gathering moss like rocks.
Trespassing on each other’s emotion
Best left alone: judgement seized
A stool tipped to falling
A resting place for the morning.
Rules for waiting are extended
The death of thought and gesture
Crust and crumbs scattered on broken slabs of time
Sick of concern for others
Smothered in tired distress
Placid in tortured beliefs
Crushed whilst standing
Flowers fall on the shallow grave
A crow flies and sits on the waving tree
A spot of rain falls
The garden is yielding
June 22nd 2019
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