Saturday, 8 June 2019

the three crowns



and here we are again
past the crack spoon
dripping 
black moss
onto still silent figures
reflected
in the broken glassed
floors
and doors that 
lead nowhere
but an endless locked circle

the haunting desolation
of dreams etched and fading
across time
the crown has slipped
the sign has flown
but memory
clings fast
to
these decaying walls





 




 








 




 





 












 

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