There is a wind blowing out of the cold heart
a wind dry with tears
for you, my friend yesterday
heap of ash, heap of years:
and I am angry for you, old friend,
angry with knife-cold today
that never more brings me living
you, yesterday.
How often have we two argued:
now I can think of more to say,
more points to put to you, new developments
yesterday.
Yesterday, I wish I could bring you
to meet my other friend, If:
between us both, we would unsteal you
from that thief.
Now and then
© Copyright: David Lake, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103020100503
Свидетельство о публикации №103020100503
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