Treasure Island

John Scully

(19th October 1947 / London)

Last Year's Wind


I went West to frequent 'civilisation'
and stopped,
and stared in sorrow.
Words cannot utter what I saw
out on the lonely city moor.
Those faces, anxious,
on beds of straw.
I left, grief overladen,
with ups and downs, far and wide
at all the places.
For behind the painted curtains
only black dust flies
while the west wind rose from under rocks
and the night air walked on fallen trees.

Submitted: Thursday, June 21, 2012
Edited: Thursday, June 21, 2012
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