Neck deep in night
With mainland morning just a line
On the horizon under a splash of ink sky
Spilt by the arm of waking dreams.
Two ships pass the last pipe of darkness.
Flagpoles fidget for their flags;
Unbridled masts fret for the bit.
Apart from the odd sighing truck
Lights change for no one in particular.
Clocks lap daylight's shore
And a time lock ticks, ticks,
On the stable door of my dreams.
I like this a lot! The quiet of approaching morning a little off, but still hostage to this empty hour.... Yep.... its a.... Big fat 10! r.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Vivid, excellent work, Seamus. Don