Sunday, 5 February 2017
Juna
It doesn't soothe me,
the wind or the time,
the lime and cypress trees,
Medical Centre beyond the ships,
a metropolitan light,
whispers, forget her lips,
i drink red sherry,
lousy by stumbled night,
against the blue infirmary,
a young woman gets lifted,
by her brute of a Dyke,
into a paramedics grip,
her drift into Casualty,
breathes a gentle whine,
how can this be,
music's broken symphony,
a future on the line,
who cares to give testimony,
or love without why?
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