Friday, 16 November 2012

A collection of fifty-one words of little worth other than the individual value of the letters they are written with, expressing stuff that has little value other than the worth that any individual chooses to embellish them with, arranged in a sequence that shows thought maybe, design perhaps and most certainly a degree of foolishness. But, as Shakespeare said – “ A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

One year
Maybe two.
Snowless winters
Barren springs.
Summers passing
And autumns
To bring colour, or fall.
Darkest nights,
None at all.
Days that break
With no suns that rise
Empty skies.
One second
One minute
One hour, maybe two.
Of eternity
With no you.

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