An Enclave - Poem by Sandra Fowler
I leave you my abbreviated dusk,
A patch of blue upon a distant hill.
Fog fingers write my feelings on the glass.
Those urgent words once set the bones alight.
Friend, let that once be powerful enough
To hold time's shadow to its measurement.
West's fated slant across a million roofs
Creates an enclave worthy of itself.
Previously published, 'The International Library Of Poetry'
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