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Commuter Poet
Poems
Jul 2016
Friday twilight
The storm approaches
And a horse on a chain
Tries to run free
Yet all she can do
Is circle
Tired graffiti
And coils of barbed wire
Blur in the impatient air
A ******* a bench sits cross legged
And flocks circle the fields
Without knowing that she is waiting
Sparks will fly
As bearded men
Return to their dwellings
And youths **** on beer bottles
She is an oak
Without knowing
Strong without realising
Many branches growing
She holds firm
To the earth
And rings
Gather around her
I am the watcher
Of such things
As they pass before
My window
1st July 2016
Written by
Commuter Poet
UK
(UK)
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