Saturday, 7 February 2009


Away from the tension I sit in wait as a storm rolls across the gentle hills.
Contemplating the avoidance I take unkindly to being left in the dark.

Down the wooden stairs I trod, flashlight to hand, dispelling the darkness.
At the end, suddenly I clash with my mother, together in half-darkness we travel.

Clinging to the torch, we traverse the kitchen.
Alas there is a spot, the darkness, unilluminated.

Together we cry.
Knowing of its origin.

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