Evening’s candle-wax
The evening’s candle-wax is on the floor
Through the window morning light walks my wall
The moonless night,
has left my thoughts, that’s all
There’s a clarity in seeing things for real
once more
A truth it seems that never quite got through
before
Tail trail of sunshine makes chase with a cat
Enrols a milk bottle to play broken glass
And a makeshift bird-bath to bathe
white the footpath to my door
Newspaper falls from its perch in the hall
Who’s who’s new dress and old world’s war
A conversation piece that’ll never cease to be a bore
There’s a clarity in seeing things for real
once more
A truth it seems that never quite got through
before
Bakers van begins to doze,
up then down the now shadowing road
It’s fifteen footsteps from my
neighbours front hedge to my door
A single spring leaf beneath my cill has fallen
Grey street beech tree has a rotting core
You can’t help but ask a wise man 'what’s it for?'
There’s a clarity in seeing things for real
once more
A truth it seems that never quite got through
before
The town conceals its tales of birth and death
A spider’s web of forgotten events
If life’s a lie then why don’t’ you call
© Paul Phillips 2009