Canto CCXLIII

Outside the double glazed window, just across,
from where my baby girl snoozes away,
pumped full of milk and gripping my fingers,

the Power Station almost fades to grey,
within the week long, secular deluge.
I forget what it’s like to walk in rain—

the seven days we’ve spent under this roof.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Apr 29, 2012 @ 22:20:02

    Often a few words or a phrase catches my attention.
    ” and gripping my finger”
    The primeval human need to cling on to each other, to feel each others humanity,

    Reply

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