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Wrapped futilely in the realm of beauty sleep – dawn rarely dawns on me.
Long after the appointed hour, the room is thunder-black - draw back the curtains.
The sky has lost its breathing space – choked by the clouds,
voluptuously hanging in their mourning drapes – symbolic of a troubled world.
I sigh, and seek the duvet’s solace –
for me the day has not yet quite begun.
(26 October 2006)
Malcolm Evison
| Submitted Date |
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Friday, November 17, 2006 |
| Submitted Date |
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Saturday, November 20, 2010 |
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