Monday, 10 October 2016

Fortune's always hiding

No moon is too blue,
and yet no flag too white
You join this late game
of darts and sights.

Gaiety glances are shot
and questions abound
But they're cunningly cerebral
And it's loss that I've found

Words have a curious way
Of reigning themselves in
Absent then, of course, are
The things I truly mean.

To keep another's words
In a time-tested safe,
And to think they keep yours
Takes a measure of faith.

When silence glares at you
with its head in the clouds
You begin to wonder
if thinking's allowed.

(What's worse...)

Happy endings are a problem
We can never mend, for
Whatever happened to
Being happy before we end?

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