A journal of the rogue year

My zeitgeist in verse. Writings spewed out from time to time during coffee breaks and aeroplane journeys.

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Distance

Between us the ocean lies
Far furlongs for two pairs of eyes
To probe and peer.
Now the book is at its end
The tale is past its telling
Now the swallows southward wend
Where summer seeks her dwelling.
Now the season’s past her prime
Now the reason’s lost its rhyme
Now the gaping gulf of time
Shall grow each year.

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