Old light.

How old daylight felt on me

Drowning me, kindly

It never spoke to me

Of the rotting corpses, of the men it saw making love

Of the time before men or the time before that

It simply stayed

And that stance spoke

Of an isolated afternoon it lit big brown eyes of a girl of twenty

And two men took notice and vowed to make her his’

Of a rippling golden harvest amid a backdrop of a black cloud

Its stance spoke of the colour the first blossom of the spring in time, stretching back to thousands and thousands of years

It spoke of insignificance, as I was to be.

I stand and weep and weep, out of delight , out of sorrow, out of a desire to be remembered, for the beauty of being wiped away from time’s memory.

It simply stayed.


2 thoughts on “Old light.

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