Poem of the Day — Table Laid

Table Laid

Parked dry in couplets of dreams

Clouds grey in pale blue disarray

smarting wind crying eyes wet in exchange

Bruised fruit soft and brown with vinegar aroma

Touching the senses

Deceiving commonplace derision

Casting shadows on yesterdays aspects

My white wall magic wiped clean

Ragged trumpet inventory aghast

Disturbed and distressed by self serving collectors

Just attracted to hoarding

Closed hearts suffocate memories

Pinched pockets exclude the whole world in his hands

Crippled by beaten stick bruises

In my heart.
Copyright Patrick Turner-Lee 9th September 2015

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