Monday, 25 March 2013
Self Pity on a train
On a grey winter’s day, this cold’s no joke!
I’m on my way into the Smoke
where clouds won’t break, the sun won’t show her face.
No one speaks, there’s no embrace.
So, what is this grieving for a body’s loss?
In the end, I’ll get my sweet release from pitch and toss
but now it’s time to sow some seeds –little deeds.