Sunday, March 30, 2008
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.