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Thomas Wood Jan 2020
We took our places you and I-
I the bones on the cool night sand
And you the desert sky.
Looking up I wondered why-
Though felt foolish to ask;
How you wore the stars quite so,
And how the planets passed.
Thomas Wood Jan 2020
Realm of new gold, and blue-hot raging sun.
Yellow kept kingdom of the spilling fields.
Blind under burning filaments that run
like blood from the bursting heads of corn.
As sultry woods dapple with bluebell peals
and all the summer fruits of swallows song,
are shaded by kestrels, glaring overhead
and jealous ponds are broken by the stares;
of swollen mayflies, peering from the dead.
Thomas Wood Jan 2020
I am late for nothing.
Staring into the robin's egg sky,
watching my breath tumbling
to cloud about me.
There is a bus coming.

The light is fading.
Growing numb about the edges,
of frosted steel railings
and heavy molten hedges.
There is a bus approaching.

Fiery tree before me,
swallow the wintry sunset
as a fading reddish memory.
In similar shades, I know we met,
many times, and we were happy.
Thomas Wood Jan 2020
Days on days; my hometown harboured
concrete cradles cast for me.
Children growing tall like ships
alone and listing out to sea.
Thomas Wood Jan 2020
“I do not care"
Murmured the Sun
burning above an obelisk-
of terror and somehow Daedalus,
breathes alone in a darkened room.
In slow gasps; the phone is down,
the metal blinds are drawn.
"Everything now is different.
But I am just the same."
Thomas Wood Jan 2020
It used to be simpler.
Workloads were lego
and gameboys were bigger.
The world was greater
when rainbows were an end
to be followed, by the intrepid
and yelling storm-chaser.

How to spend my gains,
when youth drifts further
and further away?
On more lego? The toyseller
would laugh and say
I was mad. So I shall show
to the world that I am old-
Swear on my quietly thinning soul,
at rainbow's end I found no gold.
Thomas Wood Jan 2020
Torpid though low nightly torments stay,
how lucky I am; to miss and bathe in dreams

Of absence through the dawn and into day.
From my far flung ship; I shall watch old islands

Sliding past while sadly silver streams-
from Heaven; fall in silence.
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