how strange, the cloudy kindness
of the graveyard and its limbs,
and how different, earth
and any room must be,
darkened with the lust
and cheerless shapes
of people, who believe
everything they think.
so we sleep in hope, for a place
of hours flushed with health,
when new seasons mean
remembering, those seasons
when you no longer
missed home all the time
and wondered
where it went.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
how strange, the cloudy kindness
of the graveyard and its limbs,
and how different, earth
and any room must be,
darkened with the lust
and cheerless shapes
of people, who believe
everything they think.
so we sleep in hope, for a place
of hours flushed with health,
when new seasons mean
remembering, those seasons
when you no longer
missed home all the time
and wondered
where it went.
sep 2012
