Sitting topless in the frigid twilight,
Bottle in hand,
Asking for spare change.
The fires in the North are burning southwards,
Razing the crops and charring the land.
Scorched earth.
Beyond the fog, a man emerges.
In a billowy cloak
Followed by a swishing cape.
From beneath his wispy frame,
Out pulls a Stradivarius.
It wails long in sorrow.
Freeing the shackles of time,
He pours his heart into his whale song.
Playing to the ghosts of his soul.
Erratic Behaviour
No comments:
Post a Comment