Monday 14 April 2014

Part XIV














On the third day
She clung to the handrails
Near the door
All the way back

Zigzagging in knots
Shining confused 
With the sun

Chained to a swing
Piled in drifts
Of faces
Marching on and off
Almost invisible
To the way she
Clung herself

Constantly trying
To get my attention
Like tapping on
A dirty window

And only successing
On the way out
Like a feather on the wind
Breathless in an unfinished flight.

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