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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