I think you may be smiling
When you see your sunburnt feet.
Remembering the traders
You bought trinkets from.
When the sunlit cartwheels of the twilight turn to dreams
And everything sounds empty
In the photograph.
There is time to fall apart
And sometimes time to sieze
You can’t catch the feeling of a hug
In pictures.
The strident lions stamp their ground
And gently play their song
Singing
This is what we sing
And what you’re working for.
My hip was bitten by
A windy door
Can’t set my feet
Everywhere I look just looks like yesterday.
The tearing tides just swiftly
Strip the drifting shores I mind
Put them far behind
Shipped away
To twilight isles where I can’t find them.
Stuart Knowles
aiurea press 