A Rainy September

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This rose for all the world
For you,
These tears for all the dead,
Those empty words of morning tide
This ever-present dread.

Those cloying smells of perfume,
On the dresses of the rich,
This workman stumbling
His body in a ditch.


September's moon still shining,
On this old planet's doom,
Her wind and tide conspiring:
A chill invades the room.



◄ Feed your head

My Sweetheart the Drunk ►


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Tue 24th Nov 2020 04:33

Reminds me of the crimson rose from Beauty and the Beast. Will the dark spell be broken in time? 🥀 Beautiful poem John. 🖤

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