Sepia ‘Through The Eyes Of The Old’
be it a rose of winter compares
a dew drop tear on the first open eye,
I still dream of ghosts walking the towns,
I am there with them on rich hunting ground
hindsight retraces all we should’ve been,
and still we are waiting, mute to a dream
my hope ponders spirit, in a world left to die,
confide, we do in each other,
tonight we ride alone
all that thrives has lost i...
Sunday 16th March 2025 5:12 pm
Machynlleth 1982
Bodies are burning their oil lamps brightly
from the windows overlooking the church
their silhouettes shape-shift on the bedroom walls
as they move from room to room,
neither stand still long enough for you
to grasp who or what they are,
televisions flicker in accord
as if planned in some way, it’s strangely romantic
as if part of a passion play – and I am the only one h...
Saturday 15th March 2025 2:28 pm
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