deepundergroundpoetry.com

Lynher II

Nine thirteen, water laps over chain and rusted sheet metal,
I pop a break on, admire the Sun upon a well painted sky.
A man beside me fumbles over the goods inside his nose, a bus gets on in my lane meaning we'll get priority off,
there's small goodness in that.

And you
ask to leave the backseat,
carried to the top deck
for a better view of the Tamar below,
sowing the seeds of a deep love with water,
one of the few love affairs that matter.
The chain pulls, we watch the rotation a while, allow the Sun to bathe us with joy chemicals
before returning to life again.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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