Song for Simon
No more
Wood pigeons cooing
Morse coded messages
From the ridge tiles
Nor painted ladies
Shimmying through open windows -
Fluttering like tiny Bhutanese prayer flags
No more the dark two a.m.
Wondering who I am
Recalling paths unfollowed,
Regrets twinkling
Like distant stars.
No more struggling for breath
Or cowering in the shade of death.
It’s over.
No more plans
And no more schemes,
No more
Elusive butterfly dreams.
Your words are destined to stay unsaid
Now that you have joined the dead.
No more…
No more.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/cQAI2y6
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