Edge
By Daniel
May 12, 2008 - 4:52:16 PM
The dim-lit stairwell
Twelve o clock.
Sodium lights
And razor wire
Swallow up the grey
Silence.
Remembers how he lost himself
In blossoming spring.
The gingham folding across
Her dress,
Her china face,
Her hair.
Finds a place,
Inside himself
Lambeth Bridge
And cold night air
Hugs himself
Against the frost
Folding her
Photograph in his
Hand.
Till death us to part.
The ground rushes up to meet him.
Daniel