The Radio
I found the last radio
Out amongst the forgotten things;
It’s insides empty
But the smooth mahogany body intact.
I carried it home
And kept it beside my bed,
Each night pressing my ear
To it’s cool cavity to hear
The sound of pines trees
Blowing back and forth
And the sloshing of black waves
Carrying me to sleep.
Some nights it would howl
Like storm winds through a damp cave,
Other nights I’d wake
To the clatter of it across the floor
And swear i’d see some shape,
Light as a fox,
Slip from it’s shell
Into the shadows of the room.
Tom Harding
Mon 12th Aug 2013 19:56
thanks all!