John Lusardi – Then & Now

Then & Now

The fox-gloved summer has tripped away;

Winter slips quietly into,
The far corner of comfort.
And the mouse sized room sleeps.

Night has stolen day’s short hours;
Pulling at the rare white light.
It tip toes past, in a dust stream.

Cold glass holed; and damp cardboard,
Subdue the pin-pointed reflections.
And darkness has side-stepped itself.

Slowly, daylight drips itself into,
Watery, blurred, sleep filled eyes;
A jig-sawed dawn arrives in pieces.

Blue chilled noses appear,
From winter pressing heavy;
Frosted jack! Slips white on grey slate.

Frozen breath particles float, upward;
The shy sun mixes stiff shadows;
Cold toes string-like pegs to the floor.

Smell hot tea! Drifting in a saucer,
It snakes bendy in the stair well;
The heady scent sweet, to the senses.

Yawning and warm a pot black stove,
Creeks-crack! The pale morning open,
A thin day slides in under the door.

Accompanied by voices, carrying tears.

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