A desolate rooom
Full of nothing
But damp and cold
This covered skin
With raggered cloth
To warmeth bones of old
A throat of dry
From dust of rot
The time thats ticked
Already forgot
In perished thoughts
I dream of youth
But my reflection
speaks the truth
A past of fire
Turned to ash
This unreconised place
Still stirring back at me
Cold face
Gerard Taylor
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