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Fear waits upon its prey
where the light is a shamefaced girl

wind is a fragmented guest
where silence fools the unwary

to chirp the birds forget
where the baiter might be the bait

the hush is not all white
as in that ever ruling night
blood is spilled without sound.

Forlorn as the lovers' lost track
meanders the creek
in moans for the lost
shedding its sighs to the tides.
Sunderbans, January 28, 5pm
 Jan 2018 Jonathan Poole
Olivia
Madness

Never
apologize
for feeling too
recklessly,

the greatest lessons
are
always
learned
through

Madness
Madness

— The End —