a post

I

and although i have failed

i feel that i have lived

and live still.

 

II

I remember my little room,

the hard bed by the window

pane. I liked winter best,

the frosted glass,

 

III

the white sun struck

the day. i was in love

with everything.

 

at night, strung

like a dream, i lay

upon the sheet,

 

rose again; bowed

to the solemn street

below. I was

 

alone with

nothing to live

for but this,

 

and i was happy then

i thought – i knew

there was nothing

 

i could do.

 

30 March 2016

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