the street lamps jump in the southerlies lying to an Antarctic moon
thousand miles of lighthouses and empty air bytes
twenty miles later a love glows in the dying embers of rising eagles
snow is free
Miners get a memorial and caves aren't close
The key is heaps of minerals and a rising dollar
A Brutal feeling in the huts, pubs, prawns fried in chillies
city is empty
seals die this week, painters in a dark corner, sunsets on the lighthouse
Cuba street and a late night coffee with your curls cut short
winds have died and city is warm the Christmas
lights slowly bleed
this one is not on the paper, colours are real i feel this is someone else
souls meet
No comments:
Post a Comment